


Incentive

by mariadperiad20



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF!Chloe Decker, BAMF!Maze, But he deserves it, Character Death, Deal with a Devil, Dissociation, F/M, Happy Ending, Hinted Suicidal Ideation, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Whump, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) is Bad at Feelings, Lucifer is bi, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Dynamics, Protective Chloe Decker, Rape Recovery, Recovery, bad guy got yeet, but just to be safe i'm including it in the tags, just lots of angst tbh, not really - Freeform, season 1 ep.11-12
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2020-04-06 12:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 49,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19062355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariadperiad20/pseuds/mariadperiad20
Summary: What if Malcolm needed an extra incentive not to shoot Lucifer?





	1. Chapter 1

“It’s my Pentecostal Coin. A subway token for the damned, if you will. I was planning on using it to return to Hell, eventually. But, for someone like you…”

Malcolm licked his lips, eyes fixed on the coin with such hunger, such a deep need, that Lucifer felt recoiled from holding it.

“I give you the coin, you don’t shoot me. Deal?” Lucifer didn’t really need the coin anyway. Not when he was mortal, and would end up back down there in a few decades anyway. But something on Malcolm’s face, a mix of skepticism and thoughtfulness, put him even further on edge than before.

“What’s stopping me from killing you and taking that coin anyway?”

Ah. There it was. The “other shoe”, so to speak. Lucifer kept his face neutral, but his mind was racing through his options. He didn’t have his wings, so using his powers was a no-go. Malcolm was too close for him to make a run for it, and even so he was a cop. Lucifer was around the precinct to know that they tended not to miss - the dirty cops especially. It was a twist of irony, probably at his Father’s hands, that the people who can do the most good are the ones who refuse to. In fact, all Lucifer really could do, he supposed, was make sure Malcolm took the deal. And well, he was the Devil. Convincing people was his nature.

“Well, that’s hardly necessary now, is it?” Lucifer pushed his charisma out towards Malcolm, ignoring the recoil in his chest even as he forced his lips into a sultry smirk. “I can offer you so much more than just the coin.”

It worked. Of course. No human had ever turned Lucifer down when he looked at them like that. Except for the Detective, of course. Malcolm, for his part, didn’t go as easily as some, preconceived notions of sexuality digging in its heels. But only for a moment. The gun dipped a little, hand going lax, and Malcolm had now turned his ravenous, transfixed gaze from the coin, to Lucifer.

“What-” Malcolm licked his lips, “What’re you offering?”

“A deal.” Lucifer’s smile slipped away. “You don’t shoot me, and you get the coin. And anything of my body you desire, for the next hour.” Thank Dad he had postponed the gala, it meant no one would be here for a while.

It meant the Detective wouldn’t be here, either.

Lucifer had no illusions of what it was Malcolm would want, but, well, he was the Devil. It wasn’t like there was unfamiliar territory for him, and he doubted Malcolm could ever hold a candle to some of the other men he’d slept with.

This was not important. It was just another deal. Not even a big one - literally, he had made deals of far more importance than this.

Malcolm was human, and he did not so much as hesitate. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

Lucifer twisted his face into a smile, and placed the coin on top of the counter of the penthouse bar, closer to Malcolm’s side than his own. “Deal.”

Malcolm fumbled with the gun for a moment, before placing it on the counter, just past the coin. He brushed his hair back a couple of times, some sort of self-soothing motion, before gesticulating one arm out as the other one crept to the back of his neck.

“I’m straight, you know.”

“Well,” Lucifer shrugged, “So was Oscar Wilde, when I met him.” Seeing Malcolm’s disgusted face, he switched tactics. With any luck, Malcolm was so disinterested that Lucifer wouldn’t have to get into bed with him. Despite common belief, Lucifer didn’t want to sleep with everyone. Especially not someone like Malcolm. Not after everything Malcolm had done to the Detective, or how he just kept looking at Lucifer with that mix of desire and hatred that so many of the angels wore when he fell.

“You know, you could just ask me to play the piano for an hour, or something more tolerable-”

“No. No, I want you.”

Lucifer fell silent, clicking his teeth shut. Well, it had been worth a shot. It looked like the desire won out, after all. For a brief moment, Lucifer wondered if it had been better for Malcolm to have just shot him. But, of course, that was absurd. Lucifer couldn’t afford to go back to Hell. Not when life had just become so interesting. And not when it had become… temporary.

“Very well.” Lucifer began unbuttoning his shirt, as he turned around and walked back towards his bed. “A deal’s a deal, after all.”

He sensed movement before he felt Malcolm’s hand on his arm. “C’mon, Luci - can I call you Luci? - there’s no need to go over there.”

Lucifer turned back around, eyebrow raised. “Well, you can’t expect me to go at it on the floor now, can you? It’s undignified.”

“Well, I’d say that I hate to make you feel _undignified_ ” Malcolm said in a sing-song voice, “But it just so happens I don’t.”

Lucifer felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Something must have shown on his face, because Malcolm’s already gigantic grin grew even bigger.

“In fact, I rather like the idea of debasing the Devil. After all, it’s not like you’ll ever get a chance to punish me now, will you?”

Lucifer frowned, “This is part of the deal. I don’t punish actions taken within the-”

“Geez, lighten up, Lucifer!” Malcolm gave his arm a shake. “Don’t get all worked up, it’s just for fun. I know you would never break a deal, now, would you?”

“No.” Lucifer said through gritted teeth.

“Exactly, exactly. I knew I could count on you, man. Now, chop chop, time’s-a-wastin!” Malcolm slapped his arm, before letting go, leaving the shirt sleeve crinkled.

Lucifer bit his tongue to avoid commenting on it. He was sure if he said anything, Malcolm would probably make him rip it to pieces. And that would be a waste of perfectly good Armani. Instead, he merely slipped his suspenders off from his shoulders, carefully taking off his shirt and casting it over the top of the counter as well.

Malcolm in turn eagerly pulled off his black jacket, then the flannel underneath, tossing both haphazardly over Lucifer’s own shirt. Lucifer felt his eye twitch, even as his hands kept moving to smoothly unknot and pull away his bowtie.

This was fine. He was the Devil. This was irrelevant to him, nothing more than a few moments to endure. It would be fine. It was fine. It was…

Malcolm was now much closer to him than before, crossing the distance between them with a quick step. His breath smelled like the sugary donuts from the precinct, something that Lucifer had come to enjoy as a reminder of going to the LAPD and working with the Detective. Now, it seemed sickly sweet, almost revolting. Malcolm lifted a hand, placing it against Lucifer’s face.

“Huh, guess I thought you’d be hotter.” Malcolm said with a shrug.

Any words Lucifer would have replied with were swallowed in Malcolm’s lips colliding with his own.

Lucifer was used to eager romantic partners - the Brittanies, Raj, Steve from accounting _and_ Steve the EMT - but he controlled those situations. He knew what he wanted, he knew what they wanted, and he knew what to do. Here, he was standing in the middle of the foyer with Malcolm trying to force his tongue down his throat.

Lucifer complied, parting his lips and allowing Malcolm to continue his pursuits. He closed his eyes, trying to convince himself he could enjoy this. He was the Devil. He could find pleasure in anything, right? But Lucifer didn’t want this, try as he might to pretend otherwise.

Not that it mattered. Lucifer had made a deal, and he wasn’t going to break it over Malcolm. Lucifer always chased after his own desires. Was it too much to have him stop and deny it, just for this short time? What was an hour in the grand scheme of his eons of existence?

Lucifer felt one of Malcolm’s hands slide from where it was against his face to wrap into his hair, tugging hard. It didn’t hurt, of course, but it would ruin his hairdo.

Malcolm moved his other hand to Lucifer’s shoulder, giving a slight shove down. He took the hint, dropping to his knees with as much gracefulness as he could muster. Lucifer hated kneeling, hated it on a visceral level. Being looked down upon - literally - made his skin crawl, reminded him too much of how the entire world, entire universe saw him. As beneath them.

Malcolm was now fumbling with his belt. “How’re you even supposed to do this with a dude? Man, I’m beginning to wish I had taken Danny-boy before when I had the chance.”

Lucifer grimaced, “Well, it doesn’t really matter with gender-”

“Of course you’d say that.” Malcolm shot back, even as he pulled off his belt and threw it off to the side. “You’re evil incarnate. I bet you’re making me do all these things, aren’t you? Making me want you.”

“No!” Lucifer’s eyes flashed red, “I’m not making you do anything! I don’t want this.”

“Oh. You don’t?” Malcolm paused, seemingly disappointed.

“Not particularly, no. I’m not really in the mood.” Lucifer began to untense slightly, relieved. However, his cautious optimism was quickly stamped back into the Italian marble flooring.

“Well, that’s a shame. ‘Cause I am.” Malcolm shrugged. “Guess we can’t all get what we want now then, can we?”

“I suppose not.”

“Now, I don’t - well, I do, actually - know about you, but I think it’s time we start using that mouth for something other than talking, yeah?”

One of Lucifer’s many talents was sword swallowing. He’d learned it from a guy who’d choked to death on one and wound up in Hell. For a _mostly_ unrelated reason. He also knew his way around a dick. It wasn’t that difficult to understand, especially not when there were so many fun picture books detailing it for him to study. He’d gotten off plenty of men, and a few women, with penises, so it wasn’t like it was unfamiliar.

In a way, this was a cold comfort. Lucifer was an expert in eliciting pleasure, he could get this done and over with quickly enough. Then, Malcolm would leave and he could get ready for the Gala. He was pretty sure the Detective was still upset with him over his whole “doing good” bit, and the sooner this whole night was over the sooner it could all go back to normal. They could go back to normal.

Malcolm, to his begrudged credit, didn’t have much to be ashamed of. It, obviously, wasn’t nearly as nice as Lucifer’s, but then few, if any, were.

Lucifer wrapped his lips around the head, giving a brief flick of his tongue to the tip, before promptly deepthroating the entire thing.

Malcolm cursed, one hand flashing out to grab the counter for balance, while the other dug back into Lucifer’s hair. There was no way he was getting out of this without massive bedhead, yet another way Malcolm was screwing him.

Lucifer worked Malcolm’s dick like it was his job, making sure to hit every single point every single time he bobbed his head. The better he did, the sooner it would be a happy ending, right? And while Malcolm would still have quite a bit of time with Lucifer, it’s not like he’d be able to do anything too severe.

All too soon, thankfully, Lucifer could tell an orgasm was building. Malcolm’s breathing was getting more sporadic, his pulse was racing, and the hand buried in Lucifer’s hair kept flexing.

Then, that hand pulled back, pushing Lucifer off of Malcolm, making him sit back on his heels. Malcolm ran a shaky hand over his face. “Damn, man, I can see why you’re so arrogant now. You’d make a great prostitute.”

“Thank you.” Lucifer quipped, deftly wiping the spit off his face as Malcolm closed his eyes again. “You don’t want me to finish you off?”

“Oh, I do, and I will.” Malcolm grinned. “I was just going to let you blow me, but what would it say about me if I was done and we still had, what, 40 minutes to spare?”

Lucifer’s face fell, and, this time, Malcolm noticed.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You promised me the hour, remember? It would be a true tragedy for you to go back on it now. Your word is your bond, isn’t it?”

Lucifer smoothed his face into as much of a neutral expression as he could manage.

“Thank you! Man, show a little respect to the Devil and see what happens.” Malcolm slapped Lucifer’s face lightly. “Won’t make that mistake again, am I right?”

He didn’t bother waiting for Lucifer to respond. “Well, time for you to lose the pants, too. It’s not the Middle Ages anymore, show some skin!”

Lucifer got to his feet, shucking off his pants, shoes, and socks, placing them carefully off to the side.

Lucifer froze as he heard the tell-tale _clink_ of handcuffs. He turned, and Malcolm shrugged at his expression. “I’d feel more comfortable tapping that ass if I knew you wouldn’t punch my face in.”

“That’s not necessary.” Lucifer said tightly. “I won’t fight. And those won’t hold me.”

“Well, you called my bluff. Really, I just want to see you helpless and at my whim. And you’ll do it, too. We made a deal. Your body. Don’t make me ask again.”

Lucifer sighed, before holding out his wrists, crossed over each other.

“Always happy to have a team player!” Malcolm grinned, before pointing to the foot railing at the base of the bar, raised a few inches off of the ground. “Go ahead and slap your arms around that, would ya?”

Lucifer’s blood boiled as he knelt down on the floor on his hands and knees, as Malcolm came up behind him and fastened the cuffs around his wrists, one at a time. Just a little bit too tight, of course. Lucifer was never one to shy away from a little kink in his sex - he had invented half the stuff people did, anyway, but it felt decidedly un-fun coming from Malcolm.

“Alright, now, I want you to look at me as I make you mine, m’kay? And I don’t need to keep staring at those ugly-ass scars you got. So be a dear and flip around, would you?”

Lucifer awkwardly slid so that he was on his back, arms stretched uncomfortably over his head, and face-to-face with Malcolm.

“There we go. Now, I’m sure you’ve got pounds and pounds of lube lying around here, but frankly I don’t really care about all that. I mean, there’s so many types, and it’s just so much effort. So, let’s just get this party started like this, yeah? You okay with that?”

“Do you care?” Lucifer asked carefully, trying to maintain his dignity even as he was lying, chained up and naked on the floor of his penthouse at the mercy of some human.

“Nope.”

Then, Malcolm parted Lucifer’s unresisting legs, scooting between them. He frowned down at Lucifer’s extremely uninterested member.

“So much for being into guys too.” He snorted, “You can’t even get it up.”

“On the contrary, it’s not men I find disgusting, but you specifically.” Lucifer replied, not bothering to hide the revulsion in his voice.

Malcolm’s hand whipped across his face, sending a slight jolt of discomfort through Lucifer’s system. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the Detective’s had in the elevator, though, and Lucifer made a note to let her know how incredibly weak-muscled Malcolm was. Still, it was enough force to send his head to the side, before it grabbed his hair, forcing him to look back at Malcolm’s face.

“Now, keep your eyes open and on me. I want to see this.” Malcolm instructed.

Then, without warning, Malcolm pushed his way into Lucifer, coming to a stop only when there was no further to go.

Lucifer hissed through clenched teeth. Once again, not painful, but definitely not something to do when he wasn’t looking forward to it. It felt wrong for Malcolm to be doing this, not even as part of a deal. He had never mixed sex and deals before quite like this, and he decided in that moment that he would never do so again.

Lucifer didn’t want this.

Malcolm was doing all of this purposefully, of course. Every single action he had taken was with the intention of making Lucifer seem less to him, a way of taking control from Lucifer in an attempt to make up for Hell. In a way, this was Lucifer’s punishment, in Malcolm’s eyes, for Hell.

Humans never understood that he had never wanted Hell in the first place. That he didn’t want suffering. Or at least, he hadn’t at first. At this point, it was getting harder and harder to tell what he wanted apart from what all the other angels wanted of him.

As Malcolm began his pace, moving into and out of Lucifer, hands gripping each of his thighs, Lucifer found his thoughts drifting away from this unhappy place, to something, anything, that could distract him, that could bring him comfort. The Detective was still working on the case with Tyler Dunley, and Lucifer was sure she would catch the bad guy. She always did. It was too bad Lucifer couldn’t be there to help her investigate, right now.

A part of Lucifer wished the Detective was here right now. She wouldn’t care about deals, she would help him. But another part of him was absolutely relieved. She shouldn’t see him like this. He wanted her respect, not her pity.

Malcolm was still above him, muttering things that Lucifer only half-heard about sex, and “damn if only I had known”, and so many other things that all muddled together into mush in Lucifer’s ears. What Lucifer did notice, however, was that Malcolm was beginning to lose control of his rhythm, beginning to falter and stutter his movements.

When Malcolm did come, it was when he was hilt-deep in Lucifer’s body, one hand dropping from Lucifer’s thighs to press against his chest for support.

“Got to admit,” Malcolm said after a few breaths, “Not as good as the BJ. But the way this felt when I was moving? You should be proud.” He slapped Lucifer’s thigh, shooting him a grin.

It felt like this had been going on forever, Lucifer having, at some point, just shut down all of his brain except for the part that thought about the Detective. Still, when Lucifer turned his head to check the clock, it had only been 46 minutes since their deal was struck.

“Fourteen more minutes, huh?” Malcolm looked back at Lucifer, thoughtful. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“You can punch out early, you know.”

Malcolm waved his hand dismissively. “Where’s the fun in that? I’m the first human to get to do whatever they want with you, I’m not going to let a single second go to waste.” After a moment or two, he snapped his fingers. “I know! Tell me what Chloe’s doing with Palmetto.”

Lucifer shook his head, voice laced with ice. “I promised you my body, not my thoughts. They’re off limits.”

“Mkay, fair. Not going to argue with that. Nope.” Malcolm nodded. “So, uh, do you got wings?”

“Cut them off.”

“Oh, damn. I would’ve loved to fuck with them.” Malcolm sighed, disappointed. “Oh, you know what?” Lucifer craned his neck as Malcolm walked out of sight, only to have him reappear in a few moments, bottle of liquor in hand. It was top shelf - well, everything up here was, but it was a fine brandy just the same.

“You mind if I have a drink?”

“Not particularly.”

“Good man. Or, Devil, I suppose.”

Malcolm sat, straddled, across Lucifer’s stomach, legs on either side. “Gotta admit, Lucifer, you’d make a great sofa, if the whole Devil thing doesn’t work out.”

“Is this generally what you do to your furniture?” Lucifer asked, eyebrow raised.

Malcolm chuckled. “Very funny. See, I knew I liked you.” He poured a glass for himself, then capped the bottle, screwing it tight. “I also know that you wouldn’t go running to the police when our time together runs out.”

“We made a deal, Malcolm. I don’t punish people for anything done within those parameters.”

“That’s what I thought.” Malcolm slid back so he was between Lucifer’s legs again, bottle in hand. “But, see, I just want to make sure you understand that I wouldn’t take to kindly to a… violation,” Lucifer bit his tongue as Malcolm shoved it into where he had vacated not too long ago. Malcolm kept talking smoothly, as if he hadn’t just- just wasted a perfectly good bottle of brandy, that is. “Of those parameters. I would be so _hurt_ by your actions.” Malcolm emphasized every few words with a twist. “I don’t think you understand how it would just _negatively_ impact me on such a _personal_ level. Do you understand me?”

Lucifer didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just gave a short nod.

Malcolm kept toying with Lucifer for the remaining time, pulling out the bottle just to shove it back in, relishing in the way Lucifer’s mask would sometimes slip, body automatically flinching or wincing at Malcolm’s ministrations.

Finally, Malcolm stopped, getting to his feet to stand over Lucifer like he was some trophy hunt. “Well, looks like our time is just about up, in mmm 23 seconds. So, I’m going to take that coin and leave, now. You stay here.”

Lucifer didn’t speak, eyes merely glued to the clock, as they had been for the past thirteen minutes and 35- no 37 seconds, now.

Malcolm grabbed his clothes, gun, and the Pentecostal coin, before ducking into the elevator, door sliding shut on his smug face, and parting words. “I had fun, Lucifer! We should do it again, sometime!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are fun, please do a consider.


	2. Chapter 2

_Tick._

Only another few seconds to go.

_Tick._

Malcolm had told him to ‘stay’, and Lucifer didn’t dare risk breaking the deal now.

_Tick._

Not after he endured all of this.

_Tick._

The second hand clicked to a new minute.

Lucifer sat up, ripping the handcuffs off with ease. With a groan, he felt between his legs, grabbing the base of the brandy bottle and yanking it out, a little harsher than was really necessary, or ideal.

Anything to get it out. Now.

Lucifer sat there, motionless, trying to breathe. The brandy was sloshing inside the bottle from how hard his hands were shaking. He looked down at it, feeling nauseous. With a snarl, he threw the bottle through the balcony window, letting it crash into Dad knows what.

Oh, it was at a time like this Lucifer wished he hadn’t fallen, if only so his Father could have smote Malcolm where he stood. Ha. As if his Father would ever hurt a human for the sake of Lucifer. It would be comical, if it wasn’t so humiliating.

Lucifer had thought he didn’t suffer from humility - a human concept. Yet, here he was, embarrassed and mortified and, and, and _ashamed_. He felt like he wanted to rip his own skin off. He felt… disgusting. It was a strange feeling, and one that he could not seem to will himself to stop.

Lucifer staggered to his feet, using the bar counter to keep his balance, tasting blood on his tongue from where he’d bitten down on it. As he surveyed the room, he was surprised to find how much of it looked… well, normal. Aside from his clothes being all around, which honestly wasn’t that unusual anyway, the penthouse looked just like it always did.

It was jarring, seeing that normalcy. As if nothing had even happened.

Well, nothing had happened, really. A deal that didn’t really go in his favor, no biggie. A night of sex that wasn’t fun for him? That was certainly a first, but then, considering how many stories women told him, he had certainly been in the minority before.

Lucifer had never been uncomfortable with his nakedness - that was a human quality picked up from the whole Temptation thing. Yet, he found himself relieved at the feel of cloth against his legs and his back as he practically threw his clothes back onto himself. It tamped down on that feeling of shame, if only a little. He glanced down to do up his buttons, and-

His fingers were shaking.

Lucifer flexed them, willing them to stop. They didn’t. With a groan, he strode behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of brandy- no, not that. Lucifer wasn't sure he'd be able to drink it anytime soon. He instead picked up a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass. Then a second, and a third, until he was practically drinking out of the bottle.

It didn’t fix the shaking, but he could pretend that it did. Maybe a shower would help, but the idea of being naked again bothered him. He knew he should, to get rid of evidence, but the thought of having to deal with it now was just too much. So, he went back to drinking.

The sound of the elevator dinging made Lucifer drop his glass. It shattered onto the floor, and his heart rate spiked. Malcolm couldn’t be-

“Lucifer?” It was Chloe. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Lucifer stiffened, before forcing a grin to his face. “Detective! Oh, it’s fine.” He waved his hand flippantly, “Got plenty more. Care for a drink?”

Chloe was looking at him strangely. Lucifer was suddenly, immensely paranoid that she _knew_.

Not that anything had happened. It was just a deal. But… what if she thought he had betrayed her? It’s not like she would understand the importance of him keeping his word, even though he told her why nearly every day. She knew that he slept around - hell, the entire city knew it. She wouldn’t believe him, especially not with Malcolm. She’d think it was just Lucifer not taking anything seriously, just screwing around - literally - and screwing her over, too, with Palmetto.

The fact that the thought of Chloe knowing made Lucifer’s strange feeling of shame come back in full force had nothing to do with it.

“No, I’m on the clock.” Chloe replied automatically. “Look, Lucifer, I came here to talk about what I said earlier… I didn’t mean to make it seem like what you’re doing isn’t good. I just think that, well,” She hesitated, “You already do so much good for people, there’s no reason for you to feel like you have to do more to prove yourself.”

Lucifer blinked, confused. Oh, right. The little goodness shtick he’d been trying. “Don’t worry, Detective, I’m quite done with all of that. No more Saint Lucifer here, back to my Devilish ways.”

“Right. That’s… good.” Chloe stepped closer to him, the bar the only barrier between them, and Lucifer had to resist the urge to move back. “I already arrested the wife for the murder. She’d been embezzling money from the foundation, and Tyler found out. So, the gala can be cancelled, now. If you want.”

“Thank goodness.” Lucifer sighed. “Consider it done and over. I'll let Maze know.” He sent a quick text, and, when he looked up, Chloe was frowning at him.

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “You, turning down a chance at partying? Why?”

“Oh, you know,” Lucifer shrugged, “Just not really feeling it.”

Lucifer did, however, begin to feel something akin to pain in his lower abdomen. It was strange - he hadn’t hurt before, but now there was a steady, aching discomfort that was beginning to make itself known. He poured a drink into a new glass, decidedly ignoring any sort of feeling whatsoever, both the physical pain, and the shame that wouldn’t stop nagging at his brain.

“No, I don’t know.” Chloe frowned. “Look, Lucifer, I wasn’t going to bring this up because I _trust_ you, but… I saw Malcolm. Leaving the club.”

Lucifer nearly dropped the glass again, instead placing it onto the bar with a slight clatter. His voice came out slightly shaky. “And?”

“I just want to know what happened.”

“Nothing that concerns you!”

“First you act like a socialite, now you’re talking with Malcolm? You’re supposed to be my partner. God, Lucifer, what’s gotten into you?”

Lucifer smiled humorlessly. “A bottle of brandy, apparently.”

“Lucifer, I’m being serious. I’m worried that…” She hesitated, “That you…”

“Well spit it out, Detective. We haven’t got all day.” Lucifer shot out, hint of venom in his voice that he couldn’t quite tamp down. He was tired, and his body hurt, and he wanted to stop _thinking_ about Malcolm, which was becoming increasingly difficult as Chloe kept bringing him up.

Chloe’s face set into a mix of determination and resignation. She knew what she was going to do, and she probably already decided what the outcome would be. It was the same face she wore when his shipment went missing, and she was sure he was smuggling.

“Lucifer, did you make a deal with Malcolm?”

Lucifer tried not to react, even as he felt a sudden wave of what suspiciously felt like nausea. “I did.”

“What was it for?”

“Devil-patient confidentiality, I’m afraid. Telling you would be improper.” Lucifer shrugged, not daring to pick up the glass, lest it fall through his unsteady fingers.

“You’ve never withheld information before in your life. If anything, you overshare.” Her voice rose slightly. “What are you hiding?”

Lucifer scoffed. It sounded false, even to his ears. “I’m not hiding, I-”

“Okay, that’s it.” The Detective interrupted. “I thought all of your weird behavior was about what I said - about trying to find a purpose. But that wasn’t it, was it? It had something to do with Malcolm. You made a deal with him.” She paused, then said, quieter, “It was about Palmetto, wasn’t it? You’re helping him cover it up, aren’t you.” It wasn’t really phrased as a question.

Lucifer drew back from her, eyes wide, hurt coloring his voice. “It wasn’t that.” She couldn’t think that he would ever, _ever_ \- “I’d never allow him to hurt you, Detective. I would _never_ do that to you.”

“Then what did you do, Lucifer?” She sounded so upset, so confused. So lost.

Clarity would only make her more upset. Sometimes, it was better to be kept in the dark. Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but found he couldn’t. After a few moments of silence, she threw her hands up into the air, letting them fall onto the counter with a smack.

“Dammit, Lucifer!”

Lucifer flinched.

He didn’t mean to do that, tried to compensate for the automatic reaction by shifting it into him turning to push the whiskey bottle further from the edge of the bar. That worked out about as well as could be expected, standing next to a cop whose job was to pick up human reactions. Not that he was human, but still.

“Lucifer…” Chloe’s voice changed, dropped from anger to a careful, polished concern. It wasn’t quite the “victim voice”, but it was damn close. “What happened?”

Lucifer shifted his eyes off of her face. He didn’t want to hide the truth from her, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t… telling her was not an option. “We made a deal. I… over-anticipated my own capabilities, is all.”

That was seeming to become more and more true, as Lucifer found himself leaning slightly against the counter, legs beginning to weaken under him. It was possible that his newfound mortality had a delayed response. Or shock? He knew that was something humans experienced, since Steve the EMT had kept trying to shove hideously neon blankets onto him after Chloe shot him.

“What does that mean?”

“I needed something from him, so we negotiated. I agreed to the terms, so, no harm no foul.” Lucifer shrugged, then automatically added, “Technically.”

“Lucifer,” Now Chloe sounded sad, and he immediately decided that that was far worse than the anger. “You flinched. You were afraid of me. Did he hurt you, did he threaten you, did he do something you didn’t agree to?”

She was edging too close to the truth, now, but Lucifer couldn’t stop her. He couldn’t lie or refuse to answer, only try to circumvent as long as possible. Merely trying to delay the inevitable until she gave up, frustrated. Please, Dad, let her give up. Frustration was not nearly so awful as the undoubtable anger she would feel at his actions.

“No, no, it was all within the agreed parameters. If it bothered me that much, I wouldn’t have agreed to… it, beforehand.”

Chloe was quieter now. He could practically see the cogs turning in her mind. He didn’t want her to make him tell her. He would, of course, but he didn’t want to. It didn’t really matter what he wanted, though, right? What mattered was everyone else’s desires.

“I… If you were to have the deal now, knowing everything, would you still do it?”

“No.”

Lucifer spoke before he even realized it, voice full of such a strong vehemence it threw even himself off guard. Chloe blinked at him, before her face suddenly changed to something that looked suspiciously like understanding.

“Lucifer…” Now it was the full victim voice. “You can tell me.”

“If I don’t want to, will you try and make me?” Lucifer had meant it to sound sarcastic, but it came out vulnerable, broken. He was truly asking her if she would respect his desires. The implications were not lost on him, and he doubted they’d be lost on her, either.

“Of course not.” Chloe said firmly, without hesitation. “I’d never force you to do anything.”

“Oh.” Chloe would never do that, she was sweet and kind and _good_. Lucifer felt ashamed that he would have even questioned her, even as he knew that he had to, for his own sake. He could not say anything, and she would not push him. She would let it drop, as long as he wanted.

Lucifer could not tell her anything, and she would be okay with it.

But she was good. She deserved to know, _because_ she didn’t demand to know.

“The deal had to do with… me.” Lucifer said slowly, eyes focusing on the clock, watching it tick by. He could feel Chloe’s eyes on him.

“In exchange for something I wanted, I gave him a coin of mine and,” Lucifer moved one hand up and down his body, quirking up his lips to a pantomime of a smirk, “All of this.” His voice dropped off, quietly adding, “And he took it.”

“Lucifer…” Chloe choked out, horrified.

“It’s fine, Detective. I did consent, technically, when I agreed to the conditions.” Lucifer shrugged. “And, even if I hadn’t, it doesn’t _matter_. Part of the deal means I don’t punish based on actions taken within the parameters of the deal.”

Chloe was silent. Lucifer faced her, but couldn’t bear to look her in the eye, instead focusing to a spot just to the left of her. Her face was set hard.

“Are… are you mad?” His voice was so damn vulnerable.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right I am.” Her face was set hard, voice brimming with barely contained rage.

Lucifer winced away from her instinctively, feeling a mix of fear and acceptance. Chloe had every right to be upset at him, he had made her angry. “Alright. Just… get it over with, would you? Punish me and be done with it.”

“Punish- what? _What? _” Chloe sputtered, thrown off. “Lucifer, no, I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at Malcolm! He… he hurt you, he raped you!” She kept going as Lucifer opened his mouth to protest. “And, I don’t care if you said you consented. People don’t flinch away from their partner after a fun night out. That’s not consent.”__

__Lucifer slowly dragged his eyes to hers. She looked more than upset, eyes red and just past the brink of crying, hands twisting in front of her. Lucifer had been right. Telling her would make her feel worse. He was making her cry._ _

__“I’m sorry, Detective.” Lucifer said quietly, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”_ _

__She shook her head, chuckling wetly. “Lucifer, it’s not your fault. You haven’t hurt me.” Her voice turned cold. “But Malcolm hurt you. I’m going to throw his ass in jail so fast-”_ _

__“I can’t allow that.” Lucifer interrupted. “Like I said, no punishment for actions taken within-”_ _

__“The confines of the deal, yeah, I heard you.” Chloe frowned, “But this isn’t part of a deal, it’s you… you suffering!”_ _

__“I’m fine, Detective. Really. Didn’t even hurt.” That wasn’t entirely true, anymore. Not as the aches kept registering. He really should sit down or something, before he fell. That would not be very helpful in calming down the Detective._ _

__She reached out, but his body tensed and she dropped her arm to her side._ _

__“Lucifer…”_ _

__“Chloe, please. I don’t-” Lucifer’s voice broke. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please, just… leave Malcolm alone. I don’t want to break the deal. Not now. Not after it’s all… happened. It won’t fix anything, not anymore.”_ _

__Chloe sighed, but didn't push it. “Technically, no case can be filed if the victim doesn’t want to press charges. So, I guess this never happened.” She frowned, “But, I think that we should do a kit, just in case you change your mind later on.”_ _

__“I won’t.”_ _

__“Are you sure? I really think that-”_ _

__“Yes. I’m positive.”_ _

__“Okay. Okay, you don’t have to.” Chloe’s voice was back to being sad. That, alone, nearly made Lucifer change his mind and offer her anything she wanted. Nearly. If she asked again, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to say no._ _

__“I’m here for you. You know that, right?”_ _

__Lucifer didn’t respond, but instead reached one hand out, which had thankfully stopped trembling like a goddamn leaf, and patted Chloe on the shoulder. She reached a hand up, resting hers on top of his._ _

__They stood that way for a few moments, before Lucifer spoke again. “You should go, Chloe. I do have evidence to remove, after all.”_ _

__She shook her head sadly. “I don’t care if you don’t want to do a kit. I’m not going to leave you alone up here.”_ _

__“Chloe…”_ _

__“I’m not going to let you shut everyone away and hide, not when you could be hurt. It’s not safe.”_ _

__“I’m hardly going to keel over and die, Detective.” He was back to referring to her by her title, trying to put back up the distance between them._ _

__“I know. But you’re my partner. It’s my job to worry about you. Please, let me stay here for you.”_ _

__Lucifer blinked at her, before nodding once. “Alright, Detective, by all means. You’re always welcome in my home, after all.”_ _

__“Thank you, Lucifer.”_ _

__Lucifer was surprised by how grateful she sounded, as if he was doing her some honor by not kicking her out. He knew she would leave, too, if he asked her to. It was for that reason, that he didn’t mind her staying. Well, that and the fact that she somehow seemed capable of cutting through his walls to get to the heart of… well, everything._ _

__“Fair warning, if you’re looking for a show, you won’t get much of one.” Lucifer said, forcing himself to sidle beyond the bar, which had quickly become his safe spot. His options were to go past either Chloe or where… well, Lucifer glanced down at the floor for just a second too long, before looking away._ _

__If Chloe saw him looking, she tactfully pretended not to notice. Instead, she remained still as Lucifer walked past her, body practically pressed against the counter to make herself look as non-threatening as possible. He would feel grateful, except all he could feel was the sense of rising anxiety as he walked out from behind the protective boundary of the bar into the open._ _

__Normally, Lucifer loved his penthouse’s setup. Obviously, since he had had it designed that way. But now, with his nerves on edge, it felt exposing, left him vulnerable to attack. He had a newfound appreciation for Chloe’s offer to stay. He knew that, left to his own devices, he would probably stand behind that bar until someone came and dragged him out from it._ _

__Which, considering his infamous ability to rebel, meant that wouldn’t have been happening anytime soon._ _

__Lucifer made haste across the room, pausing just before turning the corner out of the main foyer. “Oh, help yourself to a drink. I don’t know when -” He paused, “Just, have a drink or something. And, Detective, thank you. For… for staying.”_ _

__“Yeah, no problem. I’m here for you, Lucifer.”_ _

__He nodded once, uncomfortable at her genuineness, before ducking out of her vision down the hallway. Being alone should have made him feel more relaxed, but instead, her absence just made him more tense._ _

__Lucifer wasn’t sure if he was relieved, or disheartened, that Chloe didn’t follow after him. Relief that she was respecting his requests, but strangely upset that she wasn’t there all the same, conflicted in his mind._ _

__Of course, Lucifer would never ask her to follow him. He wasn’t weak, and this wasn’t something he wanted her to see._ _

__Chloe was good._ _

__And Lucifer was decidedly _not_._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hhhhh this two chapter shortfic is turning into a longer-than-that why am I like this ugh
> 
> also this chapter is dialogue-heavy, which is a bit unusual for me and my style of writing. so hopefully that is not too disruptive for you guys.
> 
> Kudos & comments are fun, please do a consider.
> 
> Additionally, I do take request fics for a bunch of fandoms, so consider sending me one to tumblr (same username) if you're interested.


	3. Chapter 3

Chloe remained still, elbows resting on the bar as Lucifer vanished from her sight. The sound of the shower turning on seemed to jolt her into action, snapping her back into Detective mode.

She immediately stood up straight, gaze sweeping across the room, taking stock of the penthouse. The bar was her first priority - Lucifer had been thrown off guard by something, choosing to approach her rather than go around the side. Based on Lucifer’s avoidance tactics, there was no way he would do that naturally. Lucifer didn’t want physical contact, so why would he have risked it?

There was something wrong with that side of the bar. She walked towards it, inspecting the counter as she did. It was painfully normal, which by Lucifer's standards meant pristine and absurdly expensive. She peered over the side of it, not really expecting much. After all, Lucifer had been standing back there just fine, so it was doubtful that anything had happened there.

As she had anticipated, it was completely fine, racks of expensive alcohol behind it, and fancy glasses and tumblers underneath the countertop. There were also a few knives hidden away in various spots, but Chloe recognized them as Maze’s, deciding to _not_ touch them. With a sigh, Chloe leaned back, crouching and checking the frontboard of the bar as well, slowly working her way down. No scratches or gouges, not even a suspicious stain or two. Chloe looked lower still, and her eyebrows furrowed.

The footrest of the bar was bent, a part of it warping outwards. It was metal, probably steel, and definitely solid. Tucked against the underneath of the bar, completely unnoticeable if not for her current angle, was a broken pair of handcuffs, snapped around the middle. Chloe recognized them instantly as department-issue.

Chloe sat back on her heels, fingers rubbing against her temple. She could already feel a headache forming. She was worried sick about Lucifer - as much as he tried to convey that he wasn’t bothered by it, Chloe knew better. And, even though he said he wasn’t going to press charges, and was in fact destroying all evidence as she sat here, she refused to let this slide.

If it truly hadn’t been important, he wouldn’t have tried to avoid telling her.

Lucifer may not believe in exacting punishment for Malcolm’s actions, but Chloe was not Lucifer. And she had no such qualms.

Chloe felt nauseous. Lucifer was a bit of an ass sometimes, but he tried to do the right thing, and he was so clearly hurting and alone right now. He had been, she knew, far before Malcolm. But now, he was her partner. And she wouldn’t let him suffer alone. Chloe sat there for how long, she wasn't entirely sure, trying to figure out what she was supposed to do now.

She needed a moment to just breathe.

Chloe walked over to the balcony, hoping that the fresh air would clear her head and help give her a moment to relax. The sound of the shower running faded away as she crossed further away from it, towards the balcony.

As she walked towards the closed windowed door, however, she felt a small breeze against her face. She turned her head, noticing for the first time the other windows.

One of the balcony windows was broken outwards, partially shattered with cracks emanating from a central point. Something had been thrown through it, or perhaps it had been punched. She frowned, aborting her plan to exit in favor of inspecting this new piece of data.

“What in the world…” She muttered, reaching out to trace her fingers around the gap. She couldn’t see anything beyond it, the night sky too dark to light up anything outside. She decided that she would go outside, check around to see if whatever had been thrown, if anything, was still intact, although she doubted it.

“Detective?”

Chloe gasped aloud, fingers slicing down the jagged edge of glass as she pulled back. She turned around to see Lucifer staring at her, eyes wide. He looked much less of a mess than before, fully dressed in yet another suit. What was unusual was his hair, not dripping but still damp, and completely unmanaged.

Lucifer took a step towards Chloe, asking, “What are you- Detective, your hand!” His voice instantly switching from guarded fear to visceral concern. His eyes, if possible, grew even wider, and he crossed the room in a few long strides, bending down slightly to lift up Chloe’s hand in his own, inspecting the thin lines of blood that etched horizontally across her fingers.

“Sit down, Detective, I’ll get the first-aid kit.” Lucifer crossed past the bent-metal portion of the bar without so much as a glance, leaning over the counter and rummaging around, before pulling out a pristine box and walking back across to her. Any trace of fear in his voice or posturing was gone, vanished away in his worry for her well-being.

It was painfully sweet, Lucifer seemingly pushing aside all of his feelings and thoughts, without hesitation, for her sake.

Lucifer was almost acting like normal, like this. Except Chloe also knew that Lucifer was definitely focusing on her on purpose, but she decided not to push it. Maybe this small reprieve from his own mind would be enough to help him?

Chloe wasn’t _unfamiliar_ with rape victims, even though she worked homocide. There were so many, it was impossible not to meet or work with them. In fact, she knew of a couple coworkers in the office who’d been sexually assaulted at some point or another. Each of them handled it differently, some notably better than others, but Lucifer was, well… Lucifer. He didn’t deal with things like the average person would, and she was afraid that he would end up locking it away in his head.

He had already suffered enough. She felt sudden pressure on her hand, and looked down at it, startled.

Lucifer was carefully cleaning each of the cuts with antibacterial wipes, one hand holding hers still. He didn't even seem to realize, or care, that he was making contact.

“The only kind of alcohol you don’t drink, right?” Chloe asked lightly, pressing a smile to her face.

Lucifer looked up at her, body seemingly untensed for the first time since, well, since before she got here. He wasn’t smiling, but he looked amused, setting them aside and pulling out some bandaids.

“You say that like I haven’t tried, Detective.” Lucifer winked, carefully wrapping each of her fingers.

Chloe bent her fingers, testing. They were applied perfectly, secure without being on the wrong side of tight.

“Kiss to make it better?” Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow.

Chloe laughed, holding out her hand, palm down, dramatically saying, “Dearest Lucifer, it would bring me no greater honor.”

Lucifer’s face broke into a smile, soft and almost bashful, taking her hand into his own with equal flair. “As you wish, Detective.”

He raised her hand, before pausing, her hand mere inches from his lips, face falling slightly.

“You… don’t mind that I’m… after all of this…”

“I don’t care about any of that.” Chloe said firmly, squeezing Lucifer’s hand in her own, slightly bandaged, one. “What Malcolm did is on him, not you.”

“But…” Lucifer was wavering, before asking, brokenly, “Do you forgive me?”

“Forgive you?” Chloe asked carefully. “For what?”

“I betrayed you, Detective." He said it with such authority and conviction that, if Chloe didn't know better, would have fooled her. At least, it would have until Lucifer kept talking. "I made a deal with Malcolm, who I know you don’t trust. I’m hurting you know, both with this knowledge and,” His downcast expression only saddened more as he looked at her hand, “now with this.”

“This isn’t your fault, Lucifer. You’re not to blame for any of this! Malcolm is. You didn’t do anything wrong, you did what you could with the opportunities you had at the time. It hurts me that you’re hurting, yes, but not because of you. _Never_ because of you.” Her voice was desperate for Lucifer to just _understand_ , even though she also knew that, at least for now, he would likely not be convinced. But she would still have to try.

“But your hand, Detective.” Lucifer replied stubbornly, seemingly determined to convince her that he was evil. “I broke that window, and I startled you. I keep hurting the people around me and I can’t- I can’t-” His face contorted, and he dropped Chloe’s hand, standing up and starting to turn away.

“Lucifer, wait!” Chloe called, hand automatically reaching out and catching Lucifer’s bicep.

Lucifer went rigid, head whipping around impossibly fast to fix Chloe with wide, fearful eyes. Any trace of guilt or upset vanished in the sudden wave of absolute fear that seemed to drench through him.

Chloe let go. “I’m, I’m so, _so_ sorry, Lucifer. I didn’t mean to scare you-”

Lucifer swallowed hard, then laughed, sharp and cold, brushing off his jacket where she had touched it. “Detective, I am the Devil. You are hardly something to fear.” His eyes betrayed him, as did his shaking hands.

Chloe blinked, taking half a step back. She knew he was doing this on purpose, tried not to take it personally, but a trace of hurt still colored her words as she spoke. “I’m not going to let you pull away from me, from the world.”

Lucifer smiled dangerously. Even though Chloe knew it was him trying to push her away, it was unsettling, almost twisted somehow.

“Tell me, Detective. Do you really think you can stop me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer is a damaged lad, and in severe need of some TLC
> 
> Comments & feedback are appreciated! They tell me how readers feel & what path I should take when writing, as I often have more than one idea.


	4. Chapter 4

Chloe knew. This was the result Lucifer wanted most of all to _not_ happen. But now it had, and Lucifer was… well, he was coping in his own way.

The fact that “coping” involved avoiding civilization like the plague was completely coincidental. The world, with Chloe and Malcolm, was out there, and Lucifer was secure here. In his penthouse, where even Maze dared not to step - not after he told her not to (and possibly threw some bottles of liquor at her head). Thankfully she had backed off, because he wasn’t looking forward to getting eviscerated.

Lucifer could hide up here as long as he wanted, the two weeks he’d been up here that was quickly heading towards forever.

At least, he could until he ran out of booze.

He should have thrown the tumblrs at Maze instead.

It was ridiculous, really. Lucifer ran a _nightclub_. There was no shortage of alcohol to be had, and it was only a few floors away.

It wasn’t like he even needed it anyway. Not really. But Lucifer also knew that, while he certainly could stay here forever, alcohol was one thing he refused to miss.

This whole… situation… had seemingly taken away quite a bit - although he had no one to blame but himself for that, really - of his earthly life, and he refused to let it take away the joys of indulgence, too. He would not deny himself his own desires. Not again.

Lucifer wasn’t really sure what to expect when he stepped out to the club. It was the morning, too late for partying, and the place was, as expected, empty, save Maze. She was standing behind the bar, looking at him with a borderline hopeful expression as he came up to her.

“Lucifer-”

“Maze, pass me the top shelf. Whole thing, if you please.”

Maze placed the mixer down onto the counter with a clang. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you? I’ve seen you angry, I’ve seen you sulk-”

“I do not _sulk_.”

Maze raised an eyebrow, and continued. “I’ve seen you in all kinds of moods and all kinds of reactions. This,” She waved her arm at him, “Whole thing is not how you act.”

“Well, maybe there are parts of me you haven’t seen, darling.”

“Oh, you already know that I’ve seen _all_ of you.” Maze said it flippantly, with an air of casual statement of the fact.

Lucifer stiffened. “Maze! That-” He stopped, closing his eyes to take a breath slowly. There was no reason to be defensive, it was true. And Maze meant nothing from it. “That is not helpful. What would be helpful, is you handing over the stock of vodka.”

Maze shoved back from the counter with a snarl, grabbing a few bottles of random expensive drinks.

“This only proves my point, Lucifer. Something’s going on with you. I can help you.” Maze leaned forwards, placing the bottles in front of him but not letting go, either. “Whatever it is, you know I have your back. I _always_ have your back. No matter what.”

Would Maze even understand? He had sex with everyone, and she was the same. She knew how his deals worked, and she worked for _Hell_ , for, well, Heaven’s sake. This sort of sex - he refused to call it rape because that meant he would have to think about it and he would rather just not have to do that ever - she would probably not be able to distinguish between his normal activities. What’s worse, if she was able to distinguish it, and saw it the way Chloe did… He knew that, orders or not, she would most definitely end up breaking the rules of the deal and rip Malcolm apart limb from limb. And he didn’t break deals.

Lucifer opened his mouth, whether to thank her for the booze, to tell her to back off, or to actually talk to her, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t have to think about it for too long, however, as the sound of the club door opening sent him whipping around to face the front, simultaneously panicked and trying to maintain his cool indifference.

It clearly didn’t work, judging by Maze’s questioning glance she threw at him, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care. If he cared about it then he’d have to care about everything else and he wouldn’t do that.

Linda would probably say he was in denial. She’d probably be right.

But Linda wasn’t the one walking towards him right now.

No, it was Chloe.

Lucifer wasn’t exactly surprised, nor was he disappointed. He actually felt almost… glad to see her. That happiness of course instantly being swallowed up by the crushing reality that _she knew_.

“Something bothering you, Detective? I’m afraid the bar’s closed, so drinking your troubles away isn’t going to work out.”

“Looks like it’s working for you.” Chloe replied, glancing at the bottles, before fixing her gaze back onto him.

“What do you want, Decker?” Maze asked, leaning around Lucifer, eyes narrowed.

Chloe frowned. “Sorry to interrupt whatever you two were getting up to, but Lucifer-” She hesitated for half a moment, “I’m…” Her eyes flitted to Maze, before seeming to change her mind. “There’s a new case.”

Lucifer forced himself to lean back casually, rejecting the instant urge to offer his help. It was unsettling how quickly he was willing to do anything for her, even though he knew that the case meant going outside. Meant going to the precinct. Meant seeing Malcolm.

“And you wanted to inform me because?”

“You’re my partner. I can’t do this without you.” She spoke as if stating the temperature outside, a statement of fact, eerily similar to Maze’s own commentary only shortly before.

“You seem to have been managing fine so far.” Lucifer said defensively.

“I wanted to give you some space, as you asked. But this case is a, well,” She grimaced, “An _‘exciting’_ one, so I figured you might be interested.”

The fact was, Lucifer _was_ interested. He wasn’t really the type to handle being alone well, and Chloe was, instead of disturbing, a welcome relief to his current predicament.

She knew. She knew he had made a deal with Malcolm, done something that he didn’t want and had betrayed her. And she wanted to work with him anyway? It was almost a comfort.

Of course, the real question was if she would treat him differently, now that she knew.

Lucifer almost didn’t want to take the risk.

But Chloe was looking at him hopefully, and he couldn’t bring himself to turn her down.

After all, a homicide could be a fun distraction. With any luck, it’d be a gory one, enough to distract him from the cracked window in the penthouse and the feeling of the floor tiles under his bare feet that was now decidedly unpleasant.

“Let me get my jacket.”

Chloe’s face lit up, and she couldn’t hide the slight smile that edged across her face. “I’ll drive.”

Lucifer left Maze and Chloe to one another, Maze staring down Chloe with a twisted smile, and Chloe staring right back at her. He had left the drinks, so hopefully Maze would have a glass, and refrain from threatening Chloe any more than usual.

When Lucifer returned, Chloe’s smile turned warm, and she pulled her keys out of her pocket. Normally Lucifer would complain, but he didn’t dare try to now.

Not when he had already betrayed her once.

So, he followed her dutifully to the car, getting in without complaint. She started the engine, and then turned to face Lucifer. He was sitting straight in the seat, hands resting on his knees, upright and stiff as a board.

“Are you sure about this? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Detective, you know me. I never pass up on a murder.”

“Alright. Just, let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

Lucifer clenched his fists, then relaxed them to fold across his lap instead.

“You know me, Detective, a fickle devil on a good day.” Lucifer grinned. Chloe glanced at him, the car still resolutely in park, and he sighed. “I’ll be fine! You don’t need to concern yourself with anything except making good on your promise of excitement.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the last word.

Chloe didn’t look satisfied, but she started the car without further comment. Lucifer was more than slightly relieved that she didn’t push him on it, turning his gaze to stare out through the windshield.

Although he was fine. There was no reason to worry, right? The deal was over and done with, so there was no reason to still be hung up on it.

No reason at all. The only people who knew were Chloe and Malcolm…

Wait.

Malcolm knew, too.

It seemed obvious, even now just thinking of it, but Lucifer’s brain seemed to short-circuit at the realization. Malcolm wasn’t bound to any form of secrecy - technically, Lucifer wasn’t either, but it wasn’t something he really felt like talking about. But Malcolm, nothing was stopping Malcolm from telling _everyone_ that he had slept with Lucifer.

Lucifer had never been ashamed of who or how many people he slept with - it was a point of pride, actually, and he quite enjoyed regaling the encounters, if the individual was okay with it. But the thought of people knowing about Malcolm… it made his skin crawl with shame.

Shame was supposed to only apply to humans, but, well, he was becoming mortal more and more. He had already been feeling some extent of it throughout these past weeks, except when he successfully managed to get himself drunk enough, but now it had seemed to redouble its efforts.

Lucifer was helpless to him. Not really, of course. Lucifer could easily deal with whatever happened, and it wouldn’t really matter because Lucifer’d already slept with half the force. No one would care. But it, for some reason, felt like it _mattered_ that Malcolm could hold this over him. Once again, all of the power rested resolutely in Malcolm’s hands. He was the one who could reveal the truth, now, tomorrow, whenever he so chose.

The one who really mattered, Chloe, already knew. The rest of them weren’t important. But, if everyone knew, then they would keep reminding Chloe of it, and then she would keep getting reminded of how he had betrayed her.

“Lucifer? Lucifer!”

Lucifer blinked. They were parked again, on a random street. Lucifer could see police tape a few meters away. He turned his head, and Chloe was staring at him, concern heavy in her eyes.

“Lucifer,” She repeated again, voice softer. “If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do this. You can-”

Lucifer didn’t respond, instead just opening the car door and getting out. He couldn’t back down now. He didn’t want to disappoint Chloe by hiding, now. Not when she was so eager to have him ‘back’.

Lucifer followed half-a-step behind Chloe, dipping under the tape and walking past the other officers.

Lucifer was struck by how… normal… it was. Officers milled around, taking statements from witnesses, and tried to get rid of the curious passerby as they arrived. Humans had such morbid curiosities. A few people glanced their direction, but most everyone was too absorbed in their activities to even notice their arrival.

One of the people who did, however, seem to notice, was Dan. He was kneeling next to the body, talking to the coroner. He stood up as they approached, frown firmly in place.

“Really, Chloe?” He asked as she stopped beside him, Lucifer still following after like a kicked puppy. “I told you we had the case handled. I don’t know why you feel the need to saddle yourself with as much inconvenience as possible, but here we are.”

“Yes, we are.” Lucifer replied with a forced grin, “So you can move along now, Detective Douche.”

Dan scoffed, stripping off his gloves and crossing his arms. Lucifer forced himself not to flinch.

“I’m surprised you managed to pull yourself away from whichever Brittany you were screwing to show up.” Dan jerked his chin at Lucifer’s hair. “At least the rest of us know how to use a goddamn comb.”

Lucifer did flinch, then. Any retort died in his throat, and Lucifer simply stared at Dan, struck silent. Dan raised his eyebrows at Lucifer’s lack of response.

“That was really all it took to stop you? Insulting your appearance? That’s even more shallow than I was-”

“Dan, shut up.” Chloe interjected, voice harsh. “It’s not like you’re ever on time for picking up Trixie, so you might not want to throw stones.”

“I’m not throwing- whatever. You always take his side anyway. Have fun with the case, Lucifer. You earned it.” Dan stepped past, striding away from them and towards another officer, who was taking a statement.

Chloe turned to face Lucifer, concerned. “Dan doesn’t mean to be rude. The case has just got him frustrated.”

Lucifer shrugged, “He also doesn’t mean to be stupid, but some things just come naturally to him.”

Chloe didn’t respond, unwilling to defend Dan, or to disagree with Lucifer. Normally, Lucifer would continue to wax poetic about the many ways in which Dan was annoying, until she eventually laughed, or told him to stop. Now, however, he didn’t want to make her frustrated, and instead remained quiet as well, letting the silence fill between them.

Lucifer looked down, and a dead man stared back at him. It looked like he wouldn’t be contributing to the conversation, either. Even as Lucifer tried to focus himself onto the body in front of him, Chloe seemed to constantly be in the edge of his sightline, twisting her hands. It was a nervous tic, Lucifer had noted, that she seemed to do whenever she wanted to say something, and was weighing the pros and cons of speaking. And she almost always chose to say what she was considering.

Lucifer was afraid of what she might ask. There was too much that he didn’t want to discuss. He had to sidetrack her, distract her from whatever it was she was thinking of.

It was tragically funny, actually. Lucifer had never hidden anything, before. Or, at least never intentionally. Now, after this, all he could seem to think of was making sure it stayed hidden, stayed unknown and undiscussed for as long as possible. Avoiding discussion, Lucifer could do no problem. Avoiding the truth… decidedly less common, for Lucifer.

“Well, Detective, it seems you were accurate in your assumption.” Lucifer said, “I do love some good tongue action.” The attempt at banter was automatic, but Lucifer couldn’t help but cringe at his own words. It felt wrong, to say it now. He was, however, being honest. The body was… curious.

A deep gash spread across the man’s entire neck, blood staining the front of his dress shirt. There was also blood spilled out of his mouth, and the tongue in question was currently lying, completely severed, in the victim’s hand.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Chloe replied after a moment, shifting to cross her arms. “Our victim is Cole Millard. He’s in his early 30s, has a managerial position in the PR department of Qualcomm, spends his free time volunteering at a local YMCA. Only living relative is a younger brother, they lost their mother to cancer a few years ago, father isn’t in the picture. This guy is squeaky clean. He doesn’t even have a speeding ticket.”

“Not speeding in LA? That's practically a traffic violation in and of itself! Of course, you would disag-”

“Lucifer?” Chloe glanced up as he cut himself off, confused.

Lucifer was frozen, seemingly every muscle in his entire body tensed. Chloe took a half-step forwards, confusion melting into concern.

“Lucifer? Are you alright?” Silence met her questions. “Say something? Please?” Her voice cracked on the last word, concern bypassing into borderline panic at her suddenly unresponsive partner.

He blinked, before looking down at Chloe, eyes just a bit too wide and too _scared_ to be normal.

“Detective,” Lucifer’s voice was quiet, breathy. “We should go.”

“What? Why?” Chloe asked automatically. Then, immediately, she followed it up, “It doesn’t matter why. Of course, let’s go.” The reasons didn’t matter. Lucifer was her partner, and he was her priority right now.

Chloe turned around, hand already reaching into her pocket to fish out her car keys.

And almost collided with Malcolm, who was walking towards them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic's chapters are longer than any of my other fics', so idk there's that I guess. Noticed it when I was checking word count and was like "oh, cool."
> 
> Comments are wonderful, if you are so inclined :)


	5. Chapter 5

Maze wasn’t stupid. She knew that. She spoke plenty of languages, was familiar with most of human history. And she was a _demon_. She could tell when things bothered people. She was used to dragging out the source of it, digging into the heart of matters without concern of anything except getting to the truth.

Truth she could then use to rip them apart piece by piece until they broke. Over and over again. It was, after all, one of her favorite pastimes. Lucifer was better at getting the weak spot, and she absolutely _loved_ manipulating it. They had always made a good team in Hell, and they were both exceptionally good at working together.

She knew, too, that Lucifer had an avoidance streak. She had known that going in all those eons ago, and she was used to working with and around it as needed. In Hell, it was straightforward. They had established roles. And he trusted her. She had earned his respect.

The problem wasn’t that Lucifer was avoiding everything and refusing to talk about whatever was getting at him. No, the problem now was that Lucifer was avoiding _her_ , refusing to speak to _her_. He clearly thought that if he didn’t disclose anything, she wouldn’t be able to figure it out. Lucifer always seemed to forget that demons aren’t just bloodthirsty, unthinking animals. She had a brain for a reason, and two eyes that worked just fine.

Like how it hadn’t escaped her notice that Chloe Decker was the last person to see Lucifer before he banished himself to his penthouse, after pedo-stache guy rolled by. Nor had she been oblivious to the draft from the broken window, when she had gone up there, worried about his sudden reclusion after a few days. Lucifer wasn’t the type to break things, generally. He always channeled his rage into something directed towards whatever it was that bothered him, especially when it was towards a person.

Of course, Lucifer had an attachment to Decker, so it was possible he was unwilling to do so.

But the fact remained, Lucifer had never taken out his emotions on unrelated things, unless it was himself. And Maze had asked Lucifer far more intrusive and insubordinate questions than “What the fuck is wrong with you?”, and he had never handed her a bottle of alcohol quite that firmly before. Well, not unless they were fighting each other, but in that case Maze would have fought back. And even then, she figured he wouldn’t have wasted the booze on it.

It hadn’t made sense. Lucifer didn’t do that kind of thing from rage. If anything, Maze would have considered it panic, if she hadn’t known any better.

Ugh.

Maybe she was stupid after all. Lucifer didn’t _do_ panic. He was always in control of the situation, always knowing what to do, if not what was going on. He didn’t panic, not when he had realized he was mortal, not even when he had _bled_ … it just didn’t make sense. It had to be something else. Someone else.

And Maze was certain it had to do with Decker.

So, a couple days later, when Decker first came in, asking to see Lucifer, Maze was all too happy to smile just a touch too wide to be human, and inform her that, “Lucifer isn’t seeing anyone.”

“Well, when will he be available?” Decker asked casually.

Maze also knew that Decker was observant, she always picked up on things. That being said, she also had an excellent poker face. She’d make a great demon, Maze rued, if only she wasn’t human.

And also possibly the reason Lucifer was hiding in the first place.

“Not for the foreseeable future. Why don’t you take a seat, Decker?” Maze let her smile spread a little further, showing too much teeth and a little further into the realm of predatory.

“No, I need to head to work. Thanks, though, Mazikeen.”

Maze would love nothing more than to grab Decker and _make_ her say what was going on, but Maze didn’t want to do anything rash. Yet. She had been under orders from Lucifer not to mess with her.

Of course, messing with Decker might be exactly what Lucifer needs to get his ass down here, even if it was for the purpose of kicking Maze’s ass.

Hm. Maybe file that option away as a Plan B.

Chloe came in the next day, too.

“Good morning, Mazikeen. Is Lucifer available?”

“No. Try again some other time.”

“Alright. Thanks.”

And the next day.

“Morning. Is Lucifer-?”

“No.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“You’re not welcome.”

And the next day.

“Hey Mazik-”

“Nope.”

“Thanks.”

“Whatever.”

And the day after that.

“Mazik-”

“No.”

“Okay, tha-.”

“If you try to thank me one more time, I am going to rip out your tongue.”

“Oh, alright. Have a good day.”

“Once you leave, certainly.”

Maze glowered at Chloe’s back as she walked away from the bar. She still couldn’t tell what Decker’s game was. If she was the one who had hurt Lucifer, which was Maze’s working theory, then maybe she felt guilty for it?

Maze could always torture it out of her, but she didn’t want to do that quite yet. Not until one of them gave a sign that Decker was at fault. Maze had fucked up before, trying to do what Lucifer needed but not wanted, and that went to… well, to not-Hell, ironically enough. She didn’t want to take that risk again.

Not until she was sure.

So now, it was more waiting around.

And Maze _hated_ waiting.

Day 10 after Decker had left the penthouse and Lucifer hadn’t, Decker didn’t show up to pester Maze with a stupid question. Maze would have been relieved, if only she knew what that _meant_.

Day 11 was the same, and Maze found herself wishing Decker would show up, if only so she could see how Decker was dealing.

Day 12, and Maze was wondering if Decker was up to something. She almost went to check on Lucifer, to see if Decker had somehow gotten to him, but decided not yet.

Waiting games were not to Maze’s enjoyment. But she knew the dangers of making the wrong decision all to clearly now, and refused to take the chance. Lucifer was unharmed, as of now, so drastic action wasn’t critically needed. Yet.

Day 13, Decker showed back up, looking unusually frazzled. She didn’t say anything, not right away. Maze looked at her skeptically over the box of vodka she was unpacking.

“Got nothing to say, today?”

“Mazikeen,” Decker was twiddling her hands, “Is Lucifer not seeing anyone, or just not seeing me?”

Maze leaned forward, instantly focused in, predatory. She made her voice carefully light, almost friendly but with enough edge that it would seem normal. This was her chance to figure out if Decker was the one who fucked with Lucifer.

“Is there a reason he wouldn’t want to see you?”

All Maze needed was a word, a confirmation, and she would rip Decker to pieces.

Decker looked confused. “Did he not tell you what happened?” It wasn’t the confirmation Maze was looking for. She pressed on.

“I want to hear what you have to say about it.”

Decker looked uncomfortable, but resolved. “It’s not my place. The only person whose thoughts matter about this is his.”

“So what, you’re just innocent in all of this?” Maze asked, hoping that the antagonist angle would work.

“No one’s innocent, Mazikeen. But I think that Lucifer is in this.”

Maze scowled. “Something we can both agree on.”

Decker didn’t argue.

Maze was ready to say screw it and throw Decker through the nearest wall, patience having long since worn thin. Lucifer was still hiding, Decker clearly knew what was going on and refused to resolve herself of responsibility one way or the other, and Maze was sick of not knowing what to do.

Not wanting to make the wrong decision be damned, it was beginning to look like not making a decision was a wrong decision too.

“Anyway, thanks, Mazikeen. I should head to work, now. Can you give Lucifer a message, at least?”

“What message?”

“That whenever he’s ready, I’m here for him.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Hardly an admission of guilt, either.

Maze decided that perhaps she was stupid.

Day 14, and Maze was cleaning a mixer that was already spotless. She was at loose ends with herself, for once in her life not knowing what the correct action was when Decker walked through the doors today. It was so much easier in Hell, when she was the one striding into the humans’ domains, not the other way around.

If this was the “growth” that Lucifer was always blathering on about, she decided she didn’t much like it.

Maze was so fixated on the doors, the sound of the elevator dinging open startled her. She felt something akin to hope rise up in her chest, hands stilling as she turned to see Lucifer walking towards her.

He looked normal. Ish. Dressed like normal, walking and carrying himself like normal. The only thing that looked changed was his hair, which was a tangled, unruly mess. Every aspect of him was so painstakingly, meticulously standard, but then to have this one piece out of place… it made Maze suspicious.

Something else was off, too. Lucifer looked tired. He slept for fun, not out of necessity, but he looked like he needed to take a nap anyway. Now, he was staring at her, some mix of confusion and that other thing, _not fear because he didn’t do fear he instilled it not have it_.

“Lucifer-”

“Maze, pass me the top shelf. Whole thing, if you please.”

Maze felt her fingers clench around the mixer, placing it onto the counter, hard. He finally shows up and now he’s acting like nothing happened. Something happened, she _knew_ that. It was her job to know what that something was.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you? I’ve seen you angry, I’ve seen you sulk-”

“I do not sulk.”

Maze raised an eyebrow, but let it go, not wanting to have him get annoyed and leave again. “I’ve seen you in all kinds of moods and all kinds of reactions. This,” She waved her arm at him, somehow trying to encompass the hair, the vanishing, the behavior, into that one gesture. “Whole thing is not how you act.”

“Well, maybe there are parts of me you haven’t seen, darling.” Lucifer was shooting for humor, she knew, but it fell flat.

“Oh, you already know that I’ve seen all of you.” Maze replied. It was true. She had seen him at his lowest points before this, when the first guilt-laden child stepped into Hell, claiming that they deserved punishment. When the first rape - well, not survivor, in her case - victim had been unable to find redemption, even though she had done nothing wrong.

Demons, including Maze, liked to torture. Lucifer liked to punish people who did wrong. The distinction, in Hell, often overlapped, but the times when it didn’t were always difficult on him. Maze was always the one to help him find the balance, recover from those hard spots to keep moving forward. Hell didn’t function without a ruler, and it had become her duty to keep the ruler sane.

Even if he had essentially abdicated that rule, it was still her job to make sure the king didn’t lose his head. Mentally or physically.

Lucifer’s reaction, however, was truly unexpected. Maze made her statement overtly sexual, in the hopes that Lucifer would snap into it and make some filthy comment in that simultaneously lewd and naive way of his.

Instead, Lucifer froze up like she had just slapped a patron. Granted, the person deserved it, but whatever.

“Maze! That- that is not helpful. What would be helpful, is you handing over the stock of vodka.”

Maze glared at Lucifer, whipping around to pull down a few bottles from top shelf. It didn’t make sense, none of this made sense and she _wasn’t_ stupid, she _knew_ there was a problem but she didn’t know _what she was supposed to do_.

“This only proves my point, Lucifer. Something’s going on with you. I can help you.” Maze leaned across the counter, keeping her grip on the drinks so he couldn’t take them and run for it. “Whatever it is, you know I have your back. I always have your back. No matter what.”

Maze just wanted to know what was wrong. She didn’t care what it was, or how important it was, or anything. She just wanted to _help_ , and he wasn’t letting her.

Lucifer could say that Amenadiel had broken a vase, and she would have gladly offered to slit the angel’s throat in a heartbeat.

Maze only wanted to do her job. Protect. Lucifer.

Lucifer looked like he was about to say something, but then, in the classic timing of a human, the door opened. Maze had almost forgotten Decker’s little visits, immediately dismissed from her mind as irrelevant now that Lucifer was here.

Lucifer, of course, hadn’t known she was coming. But his reaction was… unsettling.

Lucifer jerked around, hands grabbing the bar edge, knuckles white and granite cracking underneath them. His breath - which didn’t technically need to happen - seemed to catch.

Maze’s concern slipped into her expression, before she concealed it immediately, not wanting to give Decker any sort of insight.

She was still suspect in all of this, after all.

Maze kept her eyes glued to Lucifer, watching for any sign of something being amiss. His expression momentarily brightened, tiredness seeming to ease away for a brief moment. Then, it almost instantly crashed down into that expression that Maze was beginning to suspect was, actually, fear.

That was all the proof she needed.

Maze grinned at Chloe, itching to let her demon face out to play. Her fingers wrapped around the knives under the counter, trying to decide what she should cut out first - the left eye, or the right? She had more than one knife - why not do both at once? Her grin widened even further.

She stood up from leaning against the counter, ready to leap over it and rip into her new enemy.

Whatever Decker had done to Lucifer, Maze wasn’t sure what the range was. She had to act now, before- Lucifer had returned.

Ugh.

Maze had fucked up. She should have just gone for her when she had the chance. Now the both of them were headed out the door. Maze stood still as the door shut after them, before letting out a snarling growl, throwing her knives into one of the tables and running her fingers through her hair.

Decker had almost certainly been the one to hurt Lucifer. And Maze’s job was to destroy the danger and obstacles that stood in Lucifer’s path.

Next time, she wouldn’t hesitate.

Maze protects Lucifer. She always has, and she always will. No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Maze, and she will be part of the "good guys" in this, for the record. This chapter is more to cover her line of thinking over these 2 weeks, and how she has been trying to figure out what to do. This chapter was weird for me to write for Maze, because it's important to remember that her priority is Lucifer, 100% of the time, but also because I don't want her to be an antagonist or obstacle for the plot (like they did in season 1 cough cough).
> 
> This chapter isn't "filler" so much as it is introducing Maze formally into the plot. Lucifer angst will be happening next chapter though!
> 
> Also, yes this chapter repeats a little from previous chapter but it's because it's Maze doing a thinky think, and I couldn't cut out the discussion without making her "realization" seem jolty. I do not plan to have overlapping from chapter to chapter aside from this one, so please don't let that discourage you from continuing to follow this fic's coming chapters.
> 
> Also, also in regards to season-compliancy. The overall season theme/plot will be mostly the same, but some of the cases and other stuff will be removed or altered for the fic's timeline's sake.


	6. Chapter 6

Lucifer’s breath caught in his throat, ice spreading through his veins. He wanted to _move_ , but it was as if he had forgotten how, body no longer responding to his command.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sight of Malcolm standing cockily before him.

Chloe’s look of confusion and concern had turned, almost immediately, into a scowl as she saw Malcolm, one hand dropping to the handle of her gun automatically. Lucifer wanted to remind her that _it was fine_ but he couldn’t seem to will himself to speak.

He was afraid of what would come out if he did. A whispered plea? A broken, shaky voice? Whatever it could be, it would be nothing good. Considering he couldn't even brush his hair currently because it made him think of Malcolm, he doubted he would be able to string words together in a normal way staring straight at him.

Finally, after what felt like centuries but could have only been a few seconds, Chloe spoke. Her voice was steady, but noticeably firmer than her usual tone. “Detective Graham, we’ve already begun working on the case. Why don’t you work on witness statements with Officer Nigel?”

Malcolm shrugged. “She’s got it covered.” He shifted, slipping one hand into his jeans pocket, eyes casually raking over Lucifer’s body.

Lucifer nearly gagged.

He was used to being looked at with carnal desire, it was par for the course of being the Devil, but it was always with an understanding that he would be down with whatever happened. Here… here Lucifer was not. Malcolm’s eyes were not welcome, they were invasive, ripping and tearing into Lucifer’s skin with his gaze like knives.

It made Lucifer feel the way he felt after Malcolm had… had made a deal. It made him feel viola- no, not violated, he’s the Devil, sex was standard, sex could never be bad when he was involved.

But it still made Lucifer feel… wrong.

Chloe shifted as well, putting herself partially between Malcolm and Lucifer, creating a barrier with her body. She was mostly fixed on Malcolm, warily watching him as the potential threat, but she seemed to be observing Lucifer out of the corner of her eye.

Her action made a small, irrational part of himself relieved - Malcolm wouldn’t be able to touch him, wouldn’t be able to _hurt_ him. But the larger part of Lucifer was screaming to _not let him near the Detective_. Malcolm couldn’t hurt him, but he could hurt -

“Detective Decker!” Lucifer found himself speaking, “We’ve already gathered information here. Perhaps we should get a leg on and start hunting down suspects?” He was trying to sound his normal, cheery self, but it came across desperate, words coming out a little bit too fast and too harried.

“Yes, of course. You’re right, Lucifer. We should get on that.” Chloe, to her credit, sounded much more together than Lucifer did, although her hand was still gripping her gun, knuckles white. She dipped her head informally. “Malcolm.” An edge of cold played into the name, slipping out past whatever amount she was trying to cover.

Malcolm’s eyes were narrowed, and they flitted from Lucifer to Chloe, and then back to Lucifer. Something akin to suspicion seemed to be growing on his face, and Lucifer willed himself to keep acting normal. Chloe was very carefully controlled, and Lucifer found himself envying her. He couldn’t seem to act normal, get over this whole stupid thing and move on.

After all, it hadn’t been a big deal. Lucifer knew that, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from panicking around anyway. Chloe, though, she was better at this than he was. She understood that it wasn’t important, that was why she was able to be so calm and collected. No, the slight anger she was directing towards Malcolm was just her frustrations about Palmetto leaking through.

That had to be it.

After all, Chloe wouldn’t be acting like this for Lucifer’s sake. That wouldn’t make sense at all.

Malcolm stepped to the side, gesturing with one arm, other hand still in his pocket. “By all means.”

Lucifer swallowed hard, hands going numb. Malcolm was no longer important, because the deal was fulfilled. The time slot was used up, so there was no reason to not want to walk past Malcolm.

It was fine.

Chloe walked partially past Malcolm, then hesitated, glancing back at Lucifer. She looked… concerned.

Lucifer glanced at her hand, which was still gripping her gun. The injuries she sustained… _because of him, because Lucifer had broken the window and surprised her and it was his fault_ had healed up, but Lucifer knew that it had been there. He had hurt her, and now he was wasting her time, risking her Palmetto case even further than he already had by making a deal with Malcolm in the first place, just because he didn’t have the courage to walk past the man.

Lucifer had never felt more disgusted with himself in his life.

He walked past Malcolm quickly. Malcolm leaned forward slightly on the balls of his feet as he passed by, and Lucifer could have sworn he smelled donuts and metal. Malcolm’s hand, which had been outstretched, came back in to tuck into his other pocket, nearly making contact with Lucifer’s unkempt hair. He would have thought it was purposeful, except then it would have touched, right? He was being paranoid, now, which was ridiculous. Malcolm understood the rules of the deal, Lucifer was just getting caught up on things that didn’t matter.

Things Lucifer had agreed to, anyway.

Once Lucifer was next to Chloe, past Malcolm, she began walking quickly, hand releasing from her gun in order to dig her keys out of her pocket.

“See you around.” Malcolm called after them.

It was an innocuous goodbye. But it made Lucifer nervous, anyway. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around, shoulders tensing up, as if turning around would trigger an attack like in the gory movies he would watch with Maze.

Chloe unlocked the car, and Lucifer gratefully slipped into it. She, however, remained outside the car until he closed the passenger door, only then opening her own and getting in, quickly shutting it after her.

Lucifer opened his mouth, and Chloe shook her head.

“Not now. People could be watching.”

Of course. The Palmetto case had had another dirty cop involved, hadn’t it? Chloe was worried about people thinking she was still after Malcolm.

She started the car, carefully backing out and driving down the street, clicking her blinker to turn left. The protected arrow turned green, and she turned. The moment the yellow police tape and black and white cruisers disappeared from view, her foot slammed down onto the accelerator.

Lucifer glanced at the speedometer. “Going 60 in a 35? And here I thought you were a lawful good, Detective. Of course, by now, I’d be going 80-”

Chloe didn’t respond, simply letting her speed creep back down to 50, and then 40, and then she was turning off into a parking lot of a YMCA and cutting the engine.

“Lucifer,” Chloe began, voice careful. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Of course not, this is a terrible parking job. Look, you’re taking up two spaces and cutting off-”

“Lucifer!”

He slammed his jaw shut so hard he heard it click. Right. Banter was something she did with partners who hadn’t betrayed her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… ugh,” Chloe groaned, putting her head onto the top of the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was low, but resigned. “I shouldn’t have brought you today, I didn’t think _he_ ,” She spat the word, “Was going to be there. I’m sorry, Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s heart sank somehow even further. Of course the Detective was regretting bringing him along, of course she was upset. He deserved to be yelled at by her, and it was only because she was so good that she believed she had to apologize for the disruptance _he_ was causing _her_.

Lucifer forced his voice to be light, unwilling to give her any sense of guilt about her responsible and fair decision.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Detective. This is your case, you decide who is a part of it. If I’m not worthy of it, then there’s no point in pretending otherwise.”

“That’s not-” Chloe frowned, turning her head to look up at him, “Worthy? That’s not what I meant, Lucifer. Of course you’re… I mean that doesn’t even fit, here. I’m trying to say that I’m sorry you had to see Malcolm, and that I don’t want to keep putting you into situations where you might see him.”

“... Because I betrayed you by making a deal with him?”

“Because he hurt you, and you don’t deserve to keep being hurt by being forced to be around him.”

Now, it was Lucifer’s turn to frown. “Detective, he isn’t hurting me. He hasn’t even touched me.” Lucifer scowled further, voice raising slightly. “And I’m not being ‘forced’ to do anything! No one is making me do _anything_ , not you, and especially not Malcolm!”

Lucifer was in control of his own existence, he was in control of what happened to him. He made deals with people, not the other way around. He chose to work with Chloe, not the other way around. He chose to make a deal with Malcolm - a bargain he was not entirely satisfied with but still - not the other way around. Malcolm was going to shoot him, Lucifer was the one who had suggested a deal.

Lucifer couldn’t be forced into anything he didn’t want.

Which didn’t really explain why he couldn’t force himself to comb his hair without feeling irrational bouts of panic and this claustrophobic sensation of being _trapped_. But that was probably just Lucifer acting all dramatic, making a production out of something that _didn’t matter_ , like always. It didn’t mean anything.

“You’re right.” Chloe sat back. “No one can force you to do anything. You can refuse anyone, anytime, about anything. No matter what. Right?”

“... Well, that’s a simplistic outlook on choice now, isn’t it?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow, “Although I suppose it does hold true, in most regards.”

Chloe looked like she wanted to protest, so Lucifer quickly cut in again.

“So, what are we doing in a YMCA? Are we here to pick up your spawn, again? Because, really, these places are absolute cesspools of bacteria and, worse, children.”

Chloe chuckled. “Yeah, the children are the bad part.” Lucifer nodded, and she shook her head, smiling. “Our victim did some volunteer work here. Was a basketball coach for some of those ‘bacterial cesspools’.”

“Wait, does this mean we have to… go _inside_?” Lucifer asked, horrified.

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I’m going to make it. I volunteer myself to sit in the car, like the dogs in those hilarious PSAs Maze is always telling me about.”

“That’s not what those are for. Now, come on. Suspects aren’t going to interview themselves.” Chloe pushed open her door.

“It would be so much more convenient if they did though.” Lucifer suggested, even as he obediently got out of the car.

Chloe looked at her parking, then laughed. “You were right. This is terrible.”

Would I ever lie, Detective?”

“I should fix it.”

“Splendid idea! I’m warning you, the perfect parking job can take hours-”

“Forget I asked.” Chloe shook her head, amused. “Let’s just head inside, yeah?”

“Are you sure? Because I would be more than happy to work on driving lessons.”

“You would rather drive my car than solve a murder you personally described as ‘awesome’?”

“No.” Lucifer admitted, “Lead the way, Detective.”

As Chloe turned away from him, Lucifer thought he saw a glimpse of what looked like relief spread across her face.

Probably relief at him finally stopping annoying her, he realized with a sinking feeling. He would have to make more of an effort to stop chatting incessantly, and just do what Chloe asked him to. She didn’t have time for his shenanigans, and he had lost the right to screw around the moment he had screwed Malcolm.

It was so easy to slip back into their casual interactions, he kept forgetting that he had betrayed Chloe, and she had every right to despise him. It was only because she was a good person, she was putting up with him.

Lucifer had to behave himself more, and talk less.

Maybe if he did that enough, he would stop getting hung up on his deal with Malcolm, and figure out a way to repair what he had broken with Chloe.

As Chloe held the door open for him, and as Lucifer walked through without a second thought, the only thing on his mind was how he could ever make it up to her.

And Lucifer would do _anything_ to make it up to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do u guys like this ~content~ i tried to make it hurt
> 
> i am but a dumbass, in want of external validation in the form of various keysmashes, clicking of hearts, and words followed by exclamation points


	7. Chapter 7

Chloe was unsettled. Somewhere between the car and the basketball court, Lucifer had gone silent. Lucifer was always talking, always moving, always doing _something_. Now, he was standing still, silent, beside her as she spoke to one of the managers. He didn’t even pipe in with a dirty joke, of which there were many opportunities.

The fact that Chloe had purposefully phrased things, inviting his form of commentary, went unused, only struck her even further that something, somehow, had changed.

Maybe he really had wanted to fix the parking. Maybe he had seen something that spooked him and he didn’t want to tell her. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Chloe could weigh options and consider theories all day, but the fact was, push to shove, Lucifer was not acting like himself. He was acting like he was trying to blend in with the pictures of athletes on the wall, turn himself invisible.

The manager in front of them wasn’t even remotely Malcolm-like, either. They were lanky, dark-skinned, and dressed head-to-toe in Under Armour athletic-wear. If they had been similar, maybe then Chloe would have been able to see a correlation.

But there was none. And, even if there had been, Lucifer wasn’t really the type to generalize anyone. He could always seem to just… know how people were different from one another.

“Lucifer?” Chloe turned to her partner, pretending not to notice how he flinched slightly when she spoke to him. “Do you have any questions for the manager?”

“No, Detective.” Lucifer replied quietly, seeming to almost hunch in on himself - if he didn’t have such impeccable posture, Chloe would say he had.

Chloe furrowed her eyebrows. “Would you be willing to ask your standard question?”

Lucifer nodded hastily. “Of course, Detective, on it.” He couldn’t seem to get the words out fast enough, and he turned to face the manager quickly, shoulders tense.

“Is there a difference in questions?” The manager asked, polite confusion coloring their tone.

“Oh, not really.” Lucifer shrugged, “I’m just curious,” His voice dropped in tone, “Why don’t you tell me what it is you really wanted out of Cole. What did you desire?” Lucifer nearly gagged on the last word, feeling sick. The last time he had asked that, Malcolm had-

“I wanted him to log more hours.” The manager sighed, staring into Lucifer’s eyes. “He was so good with the kids, I wanted him to be here more. I offered to hire him, but he couldn’t take the pay cut, what with his younger brother and all. I begged him to do it, but he just couldn’t take on the extra burden. He didn’t want to let down the people he cared about, but I wish he could have done both.” They blinked, momentarily confused at having said all of that out loud. “Oh, pardon me. I’m not supposed to disclose hiring offers or job statuses.”

“It’s quite alright. Thank you for your time.” Chloe replied, “Please call us if you remember anything else.”

As the manager walked away, Chloe turned to Lucifer. He was pale, well, paler than usual, and looked faintly ill. His hands were shoved in his pockets, but Chloe was sure they were clenched.

“Lucifer?”

He flinched again, eyes flicking to her, and then down. “Yes, Detective?”

“Thanks for asking the question. I guess we can officially cross the manager off our suspect list.”

“Oh. Certainly.” Lucifer nodded stiffly. “I am glad to be of assistance.”

More weirdly formal language. Chloe didn’t call him out on it, though - she doubted it would be productive, and the last thing she wanted was for him to curl even further in on himself.

Instead, she suggested they head back to the precinct, go over the files further, and try to get in contact with his boss - unsurprisingly, tech companies weren’t particularly thrilled about having the police poking around their proprietary work, or their employees.

Lucifer agreed to that as well, in the same polite, vaguely distanced voice as before. On the way back out, Chloe watched Lucifer closely, looking for any sign of what had bothered him - a sign, a person, anything. But, whatever it was, it must have been moved or had moved since they walked in, as Lucifer seemed to take no issue with anything - or anyone - they crossed paths with.

Still, something was clearly up. Chloe held the door open, but this time Lucifer balked, seemingly unwilling to cross in front of her. After a moment, she went through herself, not wanting to make Lucifer feel any more uncomfortable than he already did.

Chloe didn’t know what had changed over just this one visit, but she was bound and determined to make it clear to Lucifer that he was always safe with her, regardless of how much or little he wanted to interact with her.

He was her partner, after all. And she would look after him, whether he was his normal cheery self, or hurting and distant like he was now.

Huh. She was starting to sound a bit like Maze.

Lucifer couldn’t have been too off, though, as he got into her car without hesitation, but still seemed to be radiating a sort of cool, quiet professionalism. It was so unlike Lucifer, it was almost as if he was trying to be a different person entirely.

Chloe drove back to the precinct much more carefully than she had driven before, watching her speed. This time, Lucifer didn’t throw a single comment about her driving like a snail, or a granny, or _his brother_ , who apparently followed rules far too closely, according to Lucifer.

Chloe made a couple of attempts at conversation, but Lucifer responded politely but with finality, not really inviting a continuation. After those few tries, they drove in silence.

Chloe didn’t want to push Lucifer. She didn’t want to force him to speak, for fear he would just hide back away.

He had vanished for two weeks. If he vanished again, Chloe wasn’t sure he would come back at all.

So, Chloe didn’t push, and Lucifer didn’t invite. The two were standing at a sort of impasse, both too afraid to make a move.

They had been making progress, Chloe knew. For a few minutes, it was as if everything was normal. Except now Lucifer was silent, and sitting still, and his hair was a mess, and he wouldn’t look her in the eye anymore.

That was certainly new, and Chloe hoped that it wouldn’t last long. She didn’t want her partner to be afraid of her - didn’t want _Lucifer_ to be afraid of her. She would never hurt him, could never hurt him.

She didn’t care what he said or did otherwise, Chloe knew that Lucifer had not consented, had not been willing. It didn’t matter what Lucifer had agreed to or not, there was more to it than that, there was always more to it than that. Lucifer had said he had made a deal - what in the world Lucifer could have valued enough to be _raped_ for, she didn’t know.

Chloe Decker didn’t want to know.

But Detective Decker did.

Right now, though, Lucifer didn’t need Detective Decker on the scene, demanding answers and posing questions. He needed a friend, someone he could rely on and trust. A partner.

Chloe was going to be that for him, however she could.

Lucifer didn’t deserve to suffer like this. No one did.

But she couldn’t get the image of Lucifer’s wide, fearful eyes and shaking form standing behind the bar counter out of her mind, couldn’t stop thinking about how, even just now, he flinched from her, expecting retribution for whatever it was he thought he had done wrong.

Chloe swore to herself, then and there, driving down this godforsaken highway, that she would do everything she could to let him know that he had done nothing wrong. That he did not deserve to be ‘punished’ for anything.

In the moment, she hadn’t really acknowledged that particular statement properly, too distracted by the overwhelming knowledge that _Malcolm had hurt Lucifer_. She wanted to talk about it with him, proper this time, but there had to be an opportunity for it. Had to be some way to do it without hurting him more.

She wanted to tell him that he was good. But she knew that he wouldn’t accept it, and would just try to push her away again, so she didn’t dare.

Not yet. But, someday, she would tell him how good he was. And he _would_ believe her.

Chloe was still deep in thought as she pulled into the precinct parking lot, taking care to do a better job at parking than she had at the YMCA. Lucifer didn’t comment on it, only further proof that something was bothering him.

He never passed up on an opportunity to make fun of her car.

This time, Lucifer walked ahead of her, holding the door open for her, and then falling in half a step behind her. He was still stiffly formal, somehow moving completely silently. Chloe found herself glancing back a couple of times, just to make sure he was still there. To have him be so nearly invisible, when his presence practically announced itself, was unsettling.

It felt like Lucifer wasn’t even there.

Although, Chloe supposed, maybe he wasn’t. She hadn’t really thought Lucifer was the type to just… check out, after trauma, but then again, she had never thought he’d experience something like this, either.

He hadn’t even projected _once_ onto the case, something that was actually, truly concerning.

The precinct was bustling with activity, as it was wont to do, various officers milling around and working at desks. Officer Nigel glanced up, and then hurried over to them, handing Chloe a few folders.

“Doesn’t look like the witnesses saw much. Found the body, but it’d already been dead for a while.” She shook her head sadly, “And we still can’t get into Qualcomm for alibis for Millard’s coworkers. And the brother hasn’t turned up yet, either.” Officer Nigel glanced over Chloe’s shoulder towards Lucifer, before turning back to Chloe. “How’d the YMCA guy work out?”

“It didn’t.”

“Well shit. Not much to go off of, huh?” Nigel looked back at Lucifer. Chloe turned, following her gaze, and saw Lucifer standing behind her, just as quiet and still as before.

Nigel seemed confused, but unbothered, everyone in the precinct used to Lucifer’s weird mannerisms.

Only Chloe seemed to be worried about his behavior, namely his _lack_ of it.

Maybe she was paranoid, overthinking everything. She didn’t believe that, though. She was the only one here besides Lucifer and Malcolm who knew, and Lucifer wanted to keep it that way. She knew his behavior was unusual because she knew what had caused it.

Officer Nigel wandered off after a few pleasantries, and then Chloe, still being dutifully followed by Lucifer, went to her desk.

Dan was, one again, awkwardly standing behind it, coffee in hand.

Chloe didn’t say anything, expecting Lucifer to make some wiseass comment about Dan not being able to find his own desk, but he didn’t say anything.

In fact, the only way Chloe knew that Lucifer had even seen Dan at all was how his steps seemed to falter for a moment, before resuming its nearly silent gait.

“Chloe, Lucifer.” Dan nodded at them, “I’ve been on the phone with Qualcomm for the past hour, they just keep talking in circles.” He gestured to Lucifer with the precinct phone, “As much as I hate it, would you use your hypnosis thing and get them to hurry up?”

Lucifer looked distinctly uncomfortable, glancing at Chloe as he reached out to take the phone. His hand seemed slightly shaky, and Dan clearly noticed, one eyebrow rising skeptically.

“Hey, man, maybe you-”

Chloe coughed into her hand, fixing Dan with a glare. Dan glanced at her, then did a double take, looking at her in confusion, voice trailing off.

“I’ve got it, Detective Espinoza.” Lucifer said quietly, taking the phone off mute and raising it to his ear.

At that, Dan’s face morphed from confusion to actual concern, and he reached out to take Chloe’s shoulder, as if to pull her aside.

Lucifer’s hand shot out, gripping Dan’s hand like a vice, halting him from making contact with Chloe. Dan stilled, head whipping to face Lucifer, other hand almost going to his gun, instinct kicking in. He had gotten a beat down by too many perps to really appreciate being manhandled, and Chloe quickly stepped in before it turned into a mess.

“Lucifer, it’s fine. Just try and get the people on the line to give us clearance, okay? I’m going to talk to Dan about another case.”

Lucifer nodded tightly. He looked terrified of holding Dan, and seemed relieved as he let go of him, drawing back as if he had been burned. However, he still seemed anxious at letting go, as if Dan was going to attack her.

In normal circumstances, Chloe would absolutely have a throwdown with Lucifer about how she could take care of herself, patriarchy, et cetera, but this wasn’t normal circumstances, and he had already been acting far too out of character for her to push that particular thing now.

Besides, it didn’t take too much of a leap in logic to figure what he was afraid of.

Chloe led Dan to an empty room, closing the door behind them, and letting out a sigh.

“What the hell is going on, Chloe?”

She didn’t even know how to answer that. She wasn’t going to talk about what Lucifer had been through - even if he hadn’t expressly told her not to, it was pretty clear he didn’t want people to know. Although she wasn’t sure that was the healthiest decision, she would respect it.

“A couple of weeks ago, we had a case, about the charity foundation, remember? Well, something… happened, with Lucifer. Nothing to me!” Chloe added hastily, seeing Dan open his mouth to interject. “But he got hurt, and he’s just a bit… wary, now.”

“Hurt?” Dan asked skeptically. “Sorry, wait.” He paused, and when he spoke again, it was more professional. “He got hurt? Was it serious, or…?”

“It’s not really something I can get into.” Chloe deflected, “What’s important is that Lucifer’s acting a little off, and I just want you to not be a dick about it. He already feels bad enough.”

“Okay.” Dan replied slowly, “Do we at least know who hurt him?”

Chloe paused for a second too long before denying it, and Dan’s eyes narrowed.

“Someone hurt him, and you’re protecting who did it? That’s not like you, Chloe.”

“What, so now you care about him?”

“I don’t like it, but you care about him. That means I care about him, too. Tangentially.” Dan defended.

“I can’t tell you. Lucifer doesn’t want it to… be a whole thing. Don’t treat him differently, just, don’t pay attention to anything unusual he does.” Chloe was trying to not give anything away, and Dan accepted it. He was different from Chloe, in that sense - he knew when to stop pushing.

“Well, thanks for letting me know.” Dan said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll just be my normal brand of annoying, leave out the extra bit.”

“Thanks, Dan. Seriously. I… I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Dan shrugged, opening the door, voice smoothly transitioning into cop-talk. “… the BOLO is still out, so we might get a hit, but at this point they’ve probably already dropped the car off in some body shop, if they’re smart.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Once it turns up there, though, we may be able to track the guy using DNA inside the car.” Chloe replied, slipping into this new conversation as well.

As the pair walked back to her desk, continuing this conversation about whatever case it was, she noticed the phone was on its rest, and Lucifer had vanished. She glanced around the precinct, unable to spot him.

“Is that normal levels of weird, or unusual weird?” Dan asked Chloe quietly, glancing around with surface casualness, eyes betraying his concern.

“Unusual.” Chloe muttered, “He hasn’t left my side since this all started.”

“Well, you left his.” Dan shrugged, “Maybe that has something to do with it.”

Chloe felt her heart sink a little. She had left him, alone, in the precinct. In the precinct. Surrounded by cops and - wait. Where was-?

Chloe whipped her head around, eyes scanning rapidly, fear rising in her chest as her heart sank lower and lower. Dan asked her something, but she couldn't seem to hear him over the rapid pounding of blood in her ears.

Lucifer was gone.

And Malcolm was nowhere in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys i'm so sorry i know it's been like 3 weeks since i updated... i didn't mean for it to take that long :(
> 
> comments are always appreciated <3


	8. Chapter 8

Lucifer had been doing fine. Better than fine, actually. He had been doing perfectly - silent, helpful, quiet. He was making Chloe’s life easier, he was working the case and not being a distraction, not being a liability. He was doing everything _right_.

His skin was crawling with antsy energy, his chest hurt and his lungs, which didn’t technically need air, were struggling to do so.

But that was okay - he deserved to be uncomfortable. He had to make it up to Chloe, for risking Palmetto. If that meant being the perfect assistant to the Detective, he was more than willing to do it.

A few honeyed words, and the Qualcomm rep was giving him access codes and scheduling a time slot with the “ _wonderful_ police department”.

It was so easy it was disgusting. Lucifer was manipulating him with ease, making him do what he wanted without even having to look him in the eyes. The man couldn’t refuse, after all, it was _Lucifer_ and when he asked for something they would always do it, whether they wanted to or not.

Lucifer felt sick.

He placed the phone back onto its receiver, leaning one hand against the desk as he covered his mouth with the other, closing his eyes. This wasn’t what he wanted to be doing. He didn’t want to make the rep do anything. What if he lost his job for not being able to stonewall the LAPD long enough? What if he got in trouble? What if he hadn’t _wanted_ to tell Lucifer to meet, or hadn’t wanted to meet them in the first place?

Lucifer knew, logically, that it was a murder investigation, and Dan would have managed to do the same thing he had, anyway, although it would have probably taken him another few hours.

But Lucifer didn’t like it, anyway. It made him feel… slimy.

He pushed off from the desk, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of _people_ surrounding him. As if they could all see into his head and know what he was thinking.

It was silly. Only a couple of angels were capable of telepathy, and he would have known if they were here. That knowledge didn’t stop the paranoia, though, and he found himself leaving the bullpen - he had finally bothered to learn what the room was called - walking quickly off in the opposite direction of Chloe and Dan. He walked into a, thankfully empty, interrogation room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

He just needed a second to catch his breath, is all. Then, he could rationalize all of this nonsense, and go back to being the perfect partner for Chloe. It was a foolproof plan, except he couldn’t seem to get himself to calm no matter how long he stood there.

Lucifer looked up, then flinched away as someone else met his eyes.

Stupid.

It was his own reflection.

What kind of Devil was he, afraid of his own face? Not even his fun red one, either.

His hair was a mess. Lucifer reached up to fix it, but the feel of fingers running through it sent him dropping his hand down to his face, covering his eyes as he tried to regain some semblance of control.

Lucifer forced himself away from the door, walking towards the table and plunking his foot onto it, leaning forwards and staring at his reflection’s haggard eyes.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t just get over all of this. Why he couldn’t make it up to Chloe, why he couldn’t stop panicking for no reason, why he kept getting hung up on a deal that had happened _weeks_ ago.

Granted, time did pass differently for him, what with being an immortal being and all, but that didn’t change the fact that, even for him, he was being ridiculous.

He was fine. Malcolm was in the past, and all that mattered now was showing the Detective, through this case, how he wasn’t a liability for her. That even though he had betrayed her, she could still trust him.

Trust he didn’t deserve. But trust he desperately wanted, anyway.

And there was nothing standing in his way except his own ridiculous hang-ups about a pedo-stached Detective Malcolm.

Lucifer let out a cry of frustration, reaching up and resolutely digging his hands into his hair, ignoring the spike of panic that ricocheted through every nerve in his body, ignoring the way he could _feel_ the tile under him even though he was standing upright, how he could smell sugar and the metal of guns, ignoring that he swore he could feel cuffs wrapped around his wrists. This was fine, this was fine, this was fine, this was- the fingers weren’t his and he could taste-

Fuck.

Lucifer had tears in his eyes, and he was gouging nail marks into his hands. Stupid, stupid, he shouldn’t be doing that, he shouldn’t be acting like some broken toy. He was Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil Himself, not some pathetic victim who couldn’t look themselves in the eye. This was meaningless, it was _meaningless_. He’d had his hair pulled more times than he could count, and he loved it each and every time. He even loved the rare occurrences of post-sex cuddling, where one of his guests would stroke his hair and whisper their awe to him.

And now, the thought of someone touching his hair made him physically nauseous. Touching it himself made him want to break his own hands. Hands, that were currently trembling so hard he was afraid he was going to dislodge the bones inside them.

Lucifer was seriously deliberating just having Maze strap him down and comb it, no questions asked, when he heard the door open behind him. He turned around, quickly shoving everything under, forcing a polite smile to his face.

“Detective, I managed to get us into Qual-” Lucifer’s smile slipped from his face, and his voice cut off as his throat closed in on itself.

It wasn’t Chloe.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, leaning against the door and letting it fall closed with a click.

“Danny will be delighted to hear that - the whole precinct could hear him shouting about being on hold.”

Lucifer’s mouth was dry.

Malcolm was talking casually, posture completely relaxed. Of course he was. Malcolm had understood that it was a deal, that the time was agreed upon and carried out. It was Lucifer who was getting hung up on it.

“I saw Decker talking to him, actually. Having a water cooler-talk, I suppose.” Malcolm didn’t move from the door. “I was curious about that, actually. Decker seemed a bit… on edge, today. You know why that is?”

Lucifer shrugged. “This case is complex.” His voice came out shaky.

Malcolm’s lips twitched, and he seemed pleased. It made Lucifer’s skin crawl.

“See, that’s what I figured.” His voice lilted up. “It’s just that, well, it was my understanding that what happened a while ago would, ah, be staying between us. Ya know? And, I can’t help but feel like maybe you _didn’t_.” At the last word, Malcolm’s voice tinged sharp, and Lucifer found himself hunching slightly away from it.

Lucifer’s tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth, unable to speak. Malcolm continued, voice shifting back into a friendly tone.

“After all, I know that you wouldn’t go around telling people, right? That wouldn’t be very nice. And what would everyone think, knowing that you’d be a home wrecker? And poor Chloe, absolutely distraught, I’m sure.”

Lucifer didn’t want people to know - as he had decided before, the less people knew, the quicker Chloe would forget about his betrayal and they could move on. He didn't particularly care about the home wrecker part - the relationships he had 'ended' had already been destroyed long before he showed up.

“I don’t want people to know.” Lucifer replied tightly. “And I’d prefer you not discuss this with the Detective.”

“See, here’s the thing.” Malcolm banged his head lightly against the door, as if reminding Lucifer that he had blocked off the only escape route, “No part of the deal said that I _couldn’t_ talk about it. Now, for obvious reasons, explaining that I’m dead would be a bit of a hassle, but believing that I’d fucked you? Not exactly a revolutionary action, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

Lucifer frowned, feeling his heart rate pick up. This wasn’t the type of conversation he was sure he should be having - it was veering into a dangerous territory, and he was pretty sure Malcolm knew it.

“It’s quite well established that I have standards, actually, so it would be a touch unbelievable.” Lucifer forced himself to shrug casually, “Besides, I could always deny it.”

“But that would make you a liar, wouldn’t it?” Malcolm asked in a sing-song, falsely innocent voice, “And the Devil hates to lie.”

“About my standards? I’ll admit, I might’ve gone for it in the ‘80s, but nowadays you hardly cross the mark-”

Malcolm stood up straight, taking an aggressive step towards Lucifer. Lucifer flinched back, hard, backing up a couple of steps himself, eyes going wide and jaw snapping shut.

Malcolm chuckled, bemused. “Well, I didn’t even have to finish walking over there, huh? Are you always this cowed?”

Lucifer eyed the door again. Malcolm was still in front of it. Obviously, Lucifer could just break through the mirror - bulletproof had nothing on him - but his limbs felt paralyzed. Even if Malcolm hadn’t been physically blocking the door, Lucifer wasn’t sure he’d be able to make a go for it, anyway.

“Look, it’s not every day a guy like me gets to screw a deity like you.” Malcolm continued, now back to his casual voice again - all of these voice changes were disorienting, making it difficult for Lucifer to keep track of double meanings in his panicked state. “And, look, it’s pretty normal to want to brag about something like that. Getting to top _Lucifer Morningstar_? It’s a pretty big deal, and I’m pretty damn tempted to just… announce it to the world.”

_“Don’t!”_ Lucifer surprised himself by speaking, voice catching in his haste, voice practically begging. He didn’t want Chloe to be reminded, didn’t want everyone to look at him and _know_.

“Well, I could keep it to myself,” Malcolm shrugged, “But that’s going to be pretty hard for me to do. A human has needs, after all.”

Lucifer didn’t respond, and Malcolm took it as an invitation, sauntering towards him casually, keeping himself between Lucifer and the door. Lucifer turned slightly to watch him carefully, his legs hitting the interrogation table.

“Unless you would make my silence worth it, anyway.” Malcolm’s hand reached out, placing itself onto Lucifer’s chest, in the exact same spot that he had that night in the penthouse.

Lucifer felt his heart stop. This wasn’t happening. Not again. Not again, no, no, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want this, this wasn’t what he wanted, this was awful and he felt like he was going to scream or maybe die or kill Malcolm or _something_. But Malcolm was looking at him and he couldn't move.

Malcolm saw the expression on his face, and shrugged again, dropping his hands and leaning back. “Or, I could just walk out there and announce that I fucked you in front of everyone, including - and especially - Decker.”

Lucifer grimaced. “Don’t tell her.” It was one thing hearing about it from him. Her hearing it from Malcolm, her suspect, would only make her more upset. And Lucifer didn’t want that. He wanted her to forgive him, to trust him as her partner. Not be reminded of his betrayal with her enemy, _by_ her enemy.

“Okay, then.” Malcolm placed his hand back onto Lucifer’s chest, other hand sliding to curl around Lucifer’s shoulder, pulling him towards Malcolm just a touch closer. “Buy my silence.”

“How much do you want?”

“All of it.” Malcolm’s hand slid down from his chest to the waist of Lucifer’s pants. “I get to have more fun with you, and I won’t tell. Deal?”

Lucifer didn’t like that deal. It left too much open for interpretation, too many open ends that didn’t go in his favor.

“No. You don’t reveal the truth about this to anyone, in any format or context, and I will allow you a set period of time with -”

“No, see, that’s not going to work.” Malcolm pulled back slightly, tsking. “You’re asking for my silence. Permanently. Shouldn’t I get something permanent, too?”

Lucifer floundered, “It can’t interfere with my work, or anything I do. Otherwise it’ll affect my life outside of … you, and that can’t happen.”

“Fine. I won't tell anyone about what I do to you, and our activities won’t interrupt your oh-so-important life.”

Lucifer felt fear creeping up his spine, wrapping its icy tendrils around his lungs and squeezing the breath out of him. This wasn’t what he wanted. But he couldn’t let Chloe get more hurt from this. There were still loopholes he could exploit, but Malcolm’s were limited. This was a best-case scenario. Malcolm was a temporary problem, Lucifer would find a way out of it. He always did. What mattered was making sure that no one ever had to find out about this, that he could keep being a good partner to Chloe and could keep living this oddly mortal life with the humans.

Besides, if it ever got to be too much, Lucifer reflected, he could always just kill himself and wind up back in Hell - someplace Malcolm wouldn’t be for another couple lifetimes, anyway. Of course, that also meant never getting to see Chloe again…

Well, no, that was unacceptable, too. What was a little discomfort in the grand scheme of things? Having Chloe in his life was considerably better than not having her, and if Malcolm was the cost of that, so be it.

“Deal.” Lucifer replied shakily.

“Knew I could count on you!” Malcolm clapped Lucifer on the shoulder, fingers leaving a burning feeling behind.

“I gotta ask, though,” Malcolm glanced at his watch, “Are you busy now?”

Lucifer bit back a shudder. “No.”

“Great.” Malcolm's shark-like grin spread even wider.

And the hand at Lucifer's waist slipped even lower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quicker update! to make up for the slow one last time :) next chapter will be more... intense.
> 
> I hope you guys like this chapter - I always love getting comments about what you like and what you want to see :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please heed the warnings of the tags <3

Lucifer could feel the mop handle digging into his back as Malcolm ground up against him, one knee between his thighs.

It was relatively dark, but illuminated enough that he could see Malcolm’s hands roaming hungrily across his bare chest - their clothes were scattered on top of the shelves, and Lucifer silently bemoaned the fact that, yet again, his clothes would be a mess - he didn’t want to have anyone even suspect what was going on.

That would make all of these sacrifices worthless.

Of all the places Lucifer had fucked, a broom closet was… decidedly not high on his list. That decision was further punctuated as the back of his calf banged into a metal bucket as Malcolm pushed him further against the wall - really, this was hardly efficient. But Lucifer hadn’t wanted to stay in the interrogation room - he liked being there, when it was him and Chloe questioning a suspect. Malcolm had been disappointed, but had suggested this instead. And Lucifer hadn’t dared disagree again.

Lucifer wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince Malcolm to change his plans, next time.

 _Next time._ Lucifer resisted the urge to vomit. He didn’t want this to happen again. He didn’t even want it to happen now. But Chloe - he couldn’t risk Chloe.

Lucifer had a not unreasonable concern that Malcolm would have, eventually, suggested going after Chloe if Lucifer rejected him. It wasn’t an implausible action, and considering Malcolm’s desire for life’s pleasures, it seemed more likely than not he would act on it. He knew they were partners, knew that Lucifer was protecting her, granted, in the only way he really could - with his body. Lucifer wanted to protect Chloe from Malcolm because of Palmetto - and also, selfishly, because he didn’t want her to keep being reminded of his betrayal - and if using his body would accomplish that, then so be it. After all, this was just the same as being shot at, but better because he wouldn’t die, so really it was fine.

This... _was_ better than dying. Of course it was, he got to stay on earth and work with Chloe. That made this worth it. Right? It was just his body. It doesn't matter...

Speaking of bodies - Malcolm’s pressed even closer, one leg bracing against the wall, the other one still pushing between Lucifer’s. One hand dropped from his chest down to his stomach, and then lower still.

Lucifer tried not to flinch.

“C’mon, man, we haven’t even started yet. There’s no need to get antsy.” Malcolm complained lightly, hand pressing down harder, other hand stroking down his arm in a pantomime of a comforting gesture.

Lucifer swallowed hard, hands pressed against the wall to hold himself steady, back pressing against the cinderblock wall. It was _cold_ , and Lucifer hated how much it reminded him of before. At least this time his hands were free, although they felt strangely weak. In a way, Lucifer almost wished that they weren’t doing this vertical - at least, then, he wouldn’t have to rely on his legs being able to support him.

Or feel this accursed bucket indenting into his leg for that matter, either.

Malcolm’s hand slid onto Lucifer’s thigh, pushing his legs open, gripping with bruising force. Lucifer braced his hands harder against the wall, fingers digging in hard, trying to maintain some semblance of stoicism. His eyes seemed frozen on Malcolm, unable to blink, disturbed by seeing, but afraid to look away - he needed to know when it was going to start, that way he could be in control, that way he would-

Malcolm roughly pushed into Lucifer, and Lucifer choked back a groan, hands flexing hard enough that he heard the sound of cracking concrete behind him.

Malcolm pressed himself tightly against Lucifer, hands still roaming, hungry and wanting and _possessive_. He pulled back far enough to ram himself back forwards, hips pressed against Lucifer’s skin.

This _hurt_. Lucifer couldn’t hide his grimace, but thankfully, for the moment, Malcolm was preoccupied, and didn’t notice. It didn’t make sense, not really. It hadn’t hurt the first time Malcolm had… made a deal… with him. Although, Lucifer reflected as Malcolm’s nails dug into his hip, gouging marks into his skin, it was a bit of a different experience. Malcolm was a bit more nervous the first time, worried about his sexuality and using up the time slot.

There was no nervousness now. No time limitation, either.

No, Malcolm seemed eager, desperate, even, to gain access to as much of Lucifer’s body as he could.

At least this time he hadn’t restrained him. It was an absurd thing to be relieved about, Lucifer knew, but he didn’t want to think about the implications of that right now. Or ever, possibly. But it was grounding, in a way, to be able to use his arms to brace the wall, to be able to release the adrenaline-induced energy coursing through him into doing _something_ , even if that something was just pushing divots into said wall.

It didn’t distract him from the cold pushing against his back, seeping away his body heat. Lucifer never particularly liked the cold, and, as Malcolm shoved into him hard enough to push him back against it even further, he decided he _really_ didn’t like it.

Malcolm shifted slightly, before ramming in again, and Lucifer let out a low, breathy groan as it sent another wave of pain rushing through his body.

The hand on his arm rose, wrapping around Lucifer’s mouth and jaw.

It would be so easy to bite it. To rip Malcolm's fingers off and give his blood to the hounds.

Lucifer didn’t. That would be a panicked reaction, and Lucifer. Didn't. Panic.

“You have to keep it down, Lucifer. Otherwise people are gonna find out from your moaning what we’re getting up to.”

“As opposed to-,” Lucifer’s voice was muffled, “The completely normal activity of hanging out in janitorial closets, right?”

“Very good. You’re learning. And who says that we can’t teach an old dog - or, Devil - new tricks?” Malcolm grinned, reaching up to ruffle Lucifer’s hair.

Lucifer raised one hand defensively to block Malcolm, knocking his hand away, muscles tensing.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, but seemed unbothered. “A sore spot, huh? Well, it wouldn’t be very professional of you to deny aspects of your body after promising it to me, isn’t it?”

Lucifer slowly, painstakingly, lowered his arm, feeling his lungs stop moving entirely as Malcolm dug his hand back into his hair.

“You know,” Malcolm breathed, “You all tensed up…” He pulled on Lucifer’s hair, hard, forcing his head to the side, “It feels _really_ nice.”

Lucifer shuddered, wanting to cry out but not wanting anyone to hear, because then people would _know_. So, instead, he choked back his groans just as he choked on his air, hands twitching against the rapidly deteriorating cement that was too cold, trying to convince his body to stop fighting and to just _relax_ , because being tense only made it hurt more and he didn’t like it.

Oh, Dad, being tense made it hurt so, so much more. Malcolm enjoyed that, though, and kept moving the hand in his hair as he thrusted in, making Lucifer twitch and clench in tandem with his motion.

That ended up not lasting too long, as Malcolm pushed up one final time before stuttering to a finish. He pulled out after another moment, self-satisfied grin on his face.

Lucifer couldn’t quite hide the look of relief on his face, but Malcolm seemed to enjoy that, too.

“You gonna clean me off, or…?” Malcolm asked sarcastically, hand in his hair already pushing down.

Lucifer sank to his knees, albeit significantly less gracefully than in the past, taking care not to knock over the absurd amount of floor-cleaning tools that seemed to be scattered around them. Malcolm’s hand in his hair kept freezing him up, making Lucifer feel unsteady and off-balance, almost unsure of how to act.

Impatient, Malcolm pulled Lucifer towards himself, and Lucifer sucked off Malcolm. It tasted like sweat, salt, and strangely metallic copper. Lucifer had gotten off a truly obscene amount of men, and he had never quite tasted _copper_ before.

When Lucifer tried to lean back, done, Malcolm’s hand remained firmly in place, keeping his mouth trapped for just a moment before letting go. Malcolm patted Lucifer on the head condescendingly, before smoothing it down to remove at least some of the bed-head look.

“There we go. Can’t have you looking a mess.” Malcolm gathered up his clothes, shucking them on efficiently. He finally paused, doing up the last few buttons of his flannel, looking back up and flashing Lucifer a sharp grin. “I had fun. We should do this again, sometime.” Malcolm listened at the door for a moment, before pulling out his phone, holding it to his ear, and beginning to speak into it, opening the door.

“-honey, I’ll be home in time for dinner. You know me, I wouldn’t miss your lasagna for the world. Love you too-” The door clicked shut, and his voice faded.

Lucifer sagged back, head hitting the wall behind him, an overwhelming feeling of _relief_ sweeping over him as Malcolm left his presence.

Lucifer didn’t understand why it had hurt so much. It hadn’t been that painful before, hadn’t even really hurt at all, until a bit afterwards, around when Chloe got there. But, at least this time, it had ended sooner. Now, he could go back to Chloe’s desk, hopefully she hadn’t noticed he was gone, and…

And…

There was something wet on his thigh. Lucifer froze. Nausea rose in his throat, and he had to fight down the newfound urge to be sick - something that, for having never experienced before, was becoming an altogether too-common feeling. He didn’t want to reach down, but he definitely couldn’t go back out there and face Chloe covered in evidence.

Besides, Lucifer already had it inside of him, already had it on his tongue. It wasn’t that important where else it went, now. Gritting his teeth, he brushed his thigh with a shaky hand, feeling the slick, slightly sticky liquid there. Strangely, there seemed to be quite a bit, and Lucifer curiously, fearfully, brought up his hand to see.

Ah. Well. That would explain the copper smell from before.

Blood gathered between his fingers, the color edging under his fingernails and staining his skin. In a way, it was horrifying - Malcolm had hurt him this badly? But on the other, it was a relief - blood was not nearly so disgusting to him as what Malcolm had left in him.

And, he _was_ in a closet full of cleaning supplies.

\-----

When Lucifer came out of the closet, it was almost directly into the path of an Officer.

“Lucifer, what are you-?” He stopped in his tracks to avoid crashing into him. “What are you doing in a closet, man?”

“I was, uh, damaging property. Bill me for the repairs.” Lucifer grinned tightly, “You know how company interview politics are.” Not technically a lie. He was just letting the Officer fill in the details himself.

The Officer - whose name Lucifer didn’t bother to read - sighed and nodded conspiratorially. “I get what you mean, man. I’ve nearly lost my cool with those bastards more times than I can count. Oh, shit,” he snapped his fingers, “Decker’s on the warpath, man. She’s been going nuts looking for you.”

Lucifer felt his heart plummet, and his barely held-together mask cracked. “Oh, I will… go check on that. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Yeah, no prob, man. Have a good one.”

Lucifer wasn’t sure if he actually said goodbye or just walked away entirely, trying to get his brain to get back to speed. It seemed sluggish, barely moving and it was hard to think - Chloe was looking for him. Which meant that Chloe… was mad at him? No, that would only make sense if she was mad and looking for him. Wait. He had already thought that thought, right?

Lucifer walked down a hall, walking stiffly but trying to pass it off as looking like he was in a hurry. It seemed to work well enough, receiving only the most cursory of glances - well, cursory for when people were looking at Lucifer, anyway. The hungry, desire-filled eyes did tend to follow him, which now seemed to send his skin crawling, but it was just a part of him. He couldn’t change it any more than he could anything else about himself.

It was how he was made, after all.

Lucifer was most of the way down the hall when Chloe, and Dan right behind her, came around the corner. Chloe was speed-walking with the best of them, eyes scanning the doors near them, Dan splitting off to check inside the rooms.

Lucifer stopped in his tracks. Chloe looked… angry. Really, really angry. Maybe his weird train of thought had been correct. Lucifer knew he should probably say something, or do something, but Lucifer couldn’t seem to will himself to move. Instead, he only watched silently, frozen, as Chloe looked forwards from the door she was checking and eyes locked onto him.

She didn’t speak, but instead walked - practically ran - to him, stopping a few inches away, one hand outstretched as if to touch, but deciding against it.

Lucifer was grateful that she had decided not to. Which was strange, because he loved being touched, normally. Anyone, really. Physical contact was more important to him than pretty much everything, the exception maybe being alcohol. And Chloe was the most important thing to him, hands down. To be relieved at not having it, especially from Chloe, was… odd.

“Lucifer…?” Chloe asked, slightly out of breath, “Where were you? We were looking all over the place.”

“Just down the hall.” Lucifer pointed, turning slightly to the side and glancing back at the, now empty, hallway.

Dan grimaced. “We were separated from you by one freaking wall.” Then, he glanced at Lucifer again, frown etching further into his face. “You okay, man? You look a little… off.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine. I was just finishing up with the _lovely_ company rep when I decided to take a break - and I proceeded to break some property.”

Dan looked annoyed. “Look, we’re not allowed to break shit when reps piss us off. Otherwise, I’d have torn down the entire building ages ago.” Then, his face softened. “But, hey, man, I’m glad you’re okay. You had us worried that, uh,”

“Worried about what?” Lucifer asked sharply, before turning to Chloe, throat tightening. “What did you tell him?”

“Just that I was worried that you weren’t here, and that you might be having a reaction to something you wouldn’t tell me about a couple weeks ago.” Chloe said carefully.

Her words weren’t soothing, but they did put Lucifer a little at ease. Dan didn’t know, either. That narrowed it down to just one person outside the deal knowing - the downside, of course, was it being the one person who mattered most, Chloe Decker.

“Well, you don’t have to worry.” Lucifer smiled as convincingly as possible, locking his knees so he wouldn’t stumble where he stood. “I’m doing perfectly fine.”

Judging by the concerned look Chloe casts him out of the corner of her eye, it didn’t convince her quite as effectively as he had hoped.

But, for now, it would be enough.

It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst? is it ~adequate~
> 
> comments are always fun :)
> 
> you guys have been asking for a couple of other characters to get brought in - that will be coming soon (to a theater near you hhhfhfdhhd)


	10. Chapter 10

Linda was worried.

Lucifer had told her he no longer required her services. Via text.

Normally, patients no longer needing her services could be a good, neutral, or bad thing.

For Lucifer, it was almost decidedly bad.

Considering his penchant for choosing the worst possible option in literally everything he did, not to mention his whole ‘Devil’ shtick, Lucifer was the sort of person she would recommend going to therapy… well, forever.

Sure, it was possible that Lucifer had found a therapist who was “better” - she wasn’t so arrogant as to believe she was the only capable shrink out there - but Lucifer hadn’t even intended to get therapy in the first place. It had just kind of… happened. Mainly because of pillow talk, actually.

She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that, actually. She knew that she should be disappointed in herself, should be morally outraged. But she just… wasn’t. Lucifer had made it clear that his body was the same as money, and, frankly, considering some of the celebrities she worked with, she wasn’t exactly in need of money. But she wanted him, and he was offering, so… it was wrong, maybe, but it wasn’t like their power dynamic was really all that much off. Especially not since Lucifer thought he was an immortal fallen angel.

She was justifying. Again.

Linda had found herself doing more and more of that, as time went on.

Really, it was for the best that Lucifer no longer wanted her as his therapist - it was an easy way of solving a problem that she knew, but didn’t want to acknowledge, was growing. It was for the best. For her.

It was not the best for him, though. Linda was certain of it.

Lucifer could quit her therapy as much as he wanted - but he really should have someone to talk to.

Which is why Linda was now standing awkwardly in front of the bar, watching Maze sharpen already razor-edged knives.

“Lucifer dropped you as a shrink?” Maze asked slowly, raking her eyes over Linda. “Then maybe I could… use your services.”

Linda ignored that. For the time being. “Do you know if he was going to another one?”

“Mm, feeling jealous?” Maze grinned sharply, “Lucifer’s loyal, sure, but he never said he would be to you.”

“Mazikeen, I’m being serious.” Linda frowned, “I’m really worried about him. You know him, he’s not exactly… healthy. I just want to make sure he’s getting the help he needs.”

“He hasn’t mentioned going to another therapist, no.” Mazikeen shrugged, face set hard. “And I don’t think he’ll be reaching out to one anytime soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s…” Maze frowned. “Your therapy… it helps him, right?”

“I’d like to think so, yes.”

“Hm. Well, Lucifer’s been… withdrawing, lately. After a case, a couple weeks back. I’m not sure what happened, and he won’t tell me - but he shut himself off. Completely. He just came out of it this morning, and even then he’s been weird about it. He left with Decker to go do something, but he’s been acting… off.”

Linda leaned forwards, resting against the bar, intent. “Do you know anything else?”

Maze didn’t hesitate. “Nope.” She spun her knives in her hand, before tucking them away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a hunt.”

“Hunt?”

“Yeah. I’m going after a pig.” Maze grinned wolfishly. “Help yourself to a drink. Or twenty. I’m eager to discuss your _therapy benefits_ when I return.” She slapped down a tumbler and some random dark-colored alcohol onto the counter.

“Thanks, but I should really get going. Work to do, people to therap-ize.” Linda said, straightening up to leave.

“Nonsense. I insist.” Maze smiled wider, “Drinks on the house. Have a little indulgence.”

Linda raised an eyebrow, but obliged, pouring a drink.

Maze looked pleased.

Hm. Maybe Linda should consider taking on Maze as a patient, too. She seemed nearly as much in need of it as Lucifer.

Well, that was a bit unfair. Maze was, after all, functioning.

Which was more than could be said for Lucifer, a lot of the time.

Linda took a sip of her drink. It was brandy - not exactly her favorite drink in the world. She was actually more of a tequila gal, but she found that brandy was the most-tolerable form of “professional” alcohol.

But alcohol was alcohol, and it could get you drunk either way.

Linda had finished her first drink, and was seriously deliberating taking a second and just hailing a cab home, when she heard the doors open behind her.

“That was fast-” Linda said, turning around, expecting to see Maze.

Instead, she saw… Dr. Cannan? “What are you doing here?”

He looked taken aback to see Linda, but quickly recovered, face switching from its stern, almost angry expression, to a warm smile.

“Dr. Martin! I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Neither was I. What are you doing?”

“Just… dropping by. A bartender here, Mazikeen Smith, and I were… discussing some options for therapy, if she was interested.

“Oh. Well, she was just here. Left to go…” Linda waved her hand in the air aimlessly, “Do whatever.” She chuckled a little. “Never thought I’d see the day when I’d be day drinking.” She tilted the bottle to Cannan. “Want any?”

“No, thank you.” He declined, stiff. “Have you seen Lucifer, either?”

“No. Not for a while, actually. That’s why I came by. Just… wanted to check up on him.”

“Did you?”

“No, he’s not here right now.”

“Ah.”

“Cannan, I… worry about him. I have a fair few patients, and he’s… definitely the most troubled. I don’t think him dropping therapy is a wise choice.”

“Oh, you know Lucifer. He’s not known for making wise choices.” Cannan said casually.

“Well, whatever’s bothering him, I’m sure will manifest in some way or another. And it’s almost guaranteed to be something unhealthy!”

“I wouldn’t worry about that too much, Linda.”

“What?”

Cannan shook his head, “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. Just… Lucifer, when faced with obstacles, seems to prefer to pick the wrong choice, out of fear. He was very immediate goals - focuses on what he wants in the moment, not what will help him long-term. So, it’ll be unhealthy, certainly, but it will go away once whatever is bothering him goes away, too.”

“Not if it’s trauma.”

Cannan visibly startled. “Trauma? Lucifer? I don’t think-”

“He’s my patient. Not yours.” Linda snapped, “And, frankly, you don’t seem to have the level of understanding of Lucifer that I do - so what you think isn’t really relevant right now, is it?”

“Lucifer’s been traumatized?” Cannan frowned. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“He thinks the world is stacked against him, he has every single bad habit and unhealthy lifestyle choice in the books, and he’s avoidant to the point of absurdity. Oh, yeah, and he thinks he’s _Satan_! I’m amazed he’s functioning at all.”

Cannan dipped his head. “No, you’re right. Of course. I apologize if I overstepped.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

Suddenly, Linda felt tired. It was exhausting, this job, and she hadn’t meant to snap at her well-meaning, albeit odd, coworker.

Maybe she should invest in going to therapy herself.

She certainly felt like she was going to need it once whatever Lucifer was busy not-coping with blew up in his face.

In the end, Linda decided against the second drink. She might as well get some paperwork done back at the office.

Cannan said he was going to wait for Maze to come back, and Linda left, shaking her head. He had no idea what he was signing up for with her. She had just pulled onto the highway, mind racing with thoughts of whether or not she should reach out to Lucifer, when her phone started ringing.

Now, this was California. No texting while driving. Linda was supposed to let it go to voicemail - but she glanced at it, just because it might be important.

She quickly cut across two lanes of traffic, pulling onto the emergency stop shoulder, pressing on her hazards and grabbing her phone up from the cup holder.

The Caller ID read Lucifer.

“Lucifer?” She asked, holding it up to her ear.

“Dr. Martin?” It was Detective Decker. “I think Lucifer needs your help.”

\----  
Amenadiel was a bit annoyed by Dr. Martin’s presence. He hadn’t anticipated her being there, and it made it difficult to question Maze when Maze wasn’t even there.

Not that that was Linda’s fault, but still. It felt like everything that could go wrong, well, _was_.

Lucifer was still skipping around somewhere on earth, Malcolm was nowhere in sight, Maze was gone, and now Linda was getting in the way.

Her little comment about Lucifer being traumatized was… odd. It shouldn’t have stuck, but it did. Amenadiel and Lucifer had their fights - and by Father did they fight - but Amenadiel cared deeply for Lucifer. He always had.

And yet… it had never even occurred to him that Lucifer was even capable of experiencing trauma. Sure, being cast out of Heaven couldn’t have been a _good_ experience, but it couldn’t have scarred him too much.

It wasn’t like Lucifer had ever wanted to be in the family to begin with.

Right?

Being on earth was beginning to affect Amenadiel’s judgement. He wasn’t sure he liked that. He didn’t want to be altered - what he is, is how he was designed. To change would be to possibly stray from their Father’s will.

Amenadiel glanced around to make sure there were no humans around, before unfurling his wings. He was already changing, already straying. His wings were, to his great shame, proof of that. His long, dark brown feathers were ragged, with bare patches where they had begun to fall out spotted across.

He was straying from his path. The sooner Lucifer was back in Hell, the sooner he could return to Heaven and this problem would stop.

Amenadiel tucked his wings back, not wanting to have to look at them any longer than strictly necessary. Maybe he could stop by that resurrected human - remind him to hurry up and get the job done.

The sooner the better - Amenadiel was well aware that resurrected souls don’t exactly deal well with being alive again, and the sooner the human finished the job, the sooner Amenadiel would no longer be responsible for him.

All Amenadiel needed to do, was have the human not do anything stupid. Just return Lucifer to Hell, and that was it.

Somehow, the concept that was so simple was seeming to become increasingly difficult.

Amenadiel could still freeze time well enough to get to the LAPD. He would find the human, put some angelic fear into him, and get him to finish his job.

So, without wasting any time, Amenadiel spread his wings, and took off for the precinct.

He would take care of the human problem, which would take care of his Lucifer problem.

Easy.

Linda would probably say that dying is traumatic.

Amenadiel would point out, then, that death wasn’t even real. Not to them. Lucifer would be upset, sure, but he wouldn’t be _traumatized_.

He wouldn’t be.

He couldn’t be.

Father would not allow one of his children to be capable of such a thing. They were angels.

Amenadiel couldn’t help but shake the creeping feeling that he was making excuses to himself.

Or possibly _for_ himself.

It didn’t matter.

Once Lucifer was back, nice and cozy in Hell, none of it would matter anymore.

And that thought gave Amenadiel solace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got Linda and Amenadiel into the mix :)
> 
> Also, I appreciate comments and feedback! I like critiques, compliments, suggestions, people's feelings on parts of it, etc. Those are all ~about~ the work that I've done so far, and those are the ones I enjoy receiving the most! However, comments that are just telling me to update/hurry up are not fun to read. I work hard on each chapter, and it's disheartening to see so many of the comments are just one sentence saying basically "update again". I appreciate that you guys want more, but if you are going to comment (which please do if you feel comfortable), would you mind making it at least partially about what I'm actually uploading?
> 
> Thank you guys for sticking with this fic and giving it so much love :)


	11. Chapter 11

Chloe was… apprehensive.

She was doing the right thing.

She had to be.

Chloe was scared.

She got worried, she got anxious, hell, she even got panicked sometimes. She’s stared down the barrel of a gun more times than she could count, and she’d always kept her cool.

But this… this was disturbing.

Lucifer was staring into the distance, eyes unfocused, stiff as a board, hands clenched in on themselves. This was completely different from the unsteady, nervous Lucifer from before.

Chloe knew what to do, generally - it was part of being a cop.

Aforementioned staring down a gun? Talk them down, take them out, she knew the procedures, she knew the game plans. If she died, it was her own fault for miscalculating.

Hostage situation? Talk them down, play the game until there was a way to get the hostages out. If someone died, it was the perp’s fault for taking hostages. She refused to feel guilt over things beyond her control - that wasn’t healthy, and the job would eat her alive if she started to let it.

Murder? Look into insurance money and families.

Hit and run? Check for cameras.

Suspected suicide? Check for notes, and insurance money - it was rarely ever so cut and dry as it would seem.

She always knew what to do, and did it as much by the books as possible. Not that she didn’t fudge the rules when needed, but it was always based on her judgement in the moment.

She always had at the very least an _idea_ of what action to take.

That was not the case now.

Lucifer.

He wasn’t reacting, he wasn’t moving. He was just staring into the distance, completely devoid of well… everything. Lucifer was so still, it was almost like he wasn’t even alive.

In fact, the more Chloe watched him, the more her concern - fear - grew. She couldn’t see his chest moving with his breathing, and she swore he hadn’t blinked since she’d started watching him. The nagging feeling kept poking at her, telling her to check on him. But then at the same time, another part of her kept reminding her that he needed space, that reaching out was a very bad idea.

Last time she had reached out, he had hid for two weeks.

Somehow, he hadn’t seemed as… bothered, then, as he did now. He had gone from his now-constant twitchy state to... whatever this was, in the span of mere moments.

He had been panicked, sure, and definitely off-kilter, but now… now it was scary. He wasn’t doing anything, he was just… existing. And even that was being called into question for her, the longer she looked at him.

Chloe had her suspicions on the matter, but Malcolm had vanished - literally, she swore she saw him and then he had vanished in the blink of an eye - so for now, her only lead was Lucifer.

A lead.

She was treating this like a case.

Her victims were easier to deal with - they were generally already dead.

This wasn’t a case. This was Lucifer. She seemed to always be forgetting that.

A Lucifer who was still so. Fucking. Lifeless.

“Lucifer?” Chloe asked casually, “Can you take a look at this paper?”

Lucifer didn’t move, didn’t blink. There was no sign he had heard her at all.

“Lucifer?” Chloe stood up, and took a step towards him.

Nothing. No movement, no reaction.

Chloe walked up to Lucifer’s side, not wanting to block off his view - in case he needed to see a route of escape. They were in one of those conference rooms, Chloe having commandeered one as hers when she noticed Lucifer had suddenly gone dead still, in the middle of a sentence, completely zoning out. She thought he had just been overwhelmed. But overwhelmed Lucifer ran, he didn't freeze up like this.

Still, getting one of these offices had been a decidedly good idea. Lucifer would hate to have people see him weak like this. Out of control, like this.

It was hard enough to see Lucifer twitching and flinching around her - he thought she hadn’t noticed, she’d been tactfully ignoring it but she was a _cop_ for God’s sake, it wasn’t like she was oblivious. But to see him not reacting to her presence at all, especially with no trigger or stimulus she could see...

That was more disturbing than him scared of her.

“Lucifer.” She said firmly. She didn’t want to touch him, didn’t want to upset him.

But this was getting way beyond not okay.

Chloe was scared.

Something was wrong with Lucifer, and she didn’t know what to do.

So, knowing damn well it would cause a reaction - but maybe it would be a reaction she knew what to do for, as opposed to this which left her helpless and Lucifer stuck - Chloe put her hand over his right one, kindly but firmly.

“Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s head swiveled, eyes - it looked like they were glowing - fixing on her. He looked beyond angry, beyond furious. His hand, already in a fist, was raised as if to punch her, and Chloe braced herself to dodge it, adrenaline spiking, knowing that, if Lucifer did manage to land a hit, he would never forgive himself.

That, and, well, she had seen him sweep people off their feet - literally - and she was sure he could pack a pretty nasty punch if he wanted to.

Lucifer’s gaze focused in on her, eyes widening, mouth falling open in dismay, seemingly realizing it was her. All the fury bled away instantly, taking the blood with it, face going pale.

His hand dropped immediately, gripping around the armrest of the chair so hard she heard the metal creaking over the sound of the blood pounding in her ears.

His motion stopped dead, hand dropping down to grip the armrest of the chair.

“De- te- hctive.” Lucifer choked out, looking horrified.

“Lucifer, you’re okay.” Chloe said quickly, trying to soothe him. Hm, it was possible that Chloe’s idea had been a bad one.

“I almost hurt you. I- I-” Lucifer was stammering, his blank expression replaced with absolute misery, as if on the brink of tears. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to- I didn’t mean to- I-”

Lucifer’s lack of breathing before seemed to be catching up with him, breath shallow and rapid.

He was having a panic attack.

Okay, yeah, no, this was definitely _definitely_ a bad idea. Silent and half-past-dead Lucifer was - well maybe not better per se - well, he was less likely to injure himself or give himself oxygen deprivation.

“Det- Chloe- this isn’t supposed to be happening,” Lucifer gasped out, other hand going to his chest. “I don’t- this isn’t-” Lucifer made to stand up, his legs almost immediately giving way.

Chloe rushed forward, trying to catch him. Lucifer jerked away from her touch so hard he knocked into the table with an exceptionally painful-sounding thwack, breath ratcheting up even further.

Lucifer slowly sank to the ground, breath so fast it was as if his lungs were going to rip apart.

“Chloe,” Lucifer had tears in his eyes - whether from fear, or from his panic, she wasn’t sure - “ _Help_.”

Chloe forced herself to unfreeze, looking around the office. Other officers were going about their day, normal as could be. They would all gladly, eagerly, offer Lucifer help in this moment.

She didn’t trust any of them.

Chloe pulled out her phone, debating 911 - same problem, though. The force had dirt in it, and Malcolm would- well, he would know that at least one other person knew. And Lucifer hadn’t wanted her to talk about this.

She could always ignore his wishes, call 911 and have them take care of him. She did know what was best.

But that was just the problem, wasn’t it? People like Malcolm who ‘know’ what to do, regardless of it all.

She could call 911, do what she wanted, and he wouldn’t be able to refuse. Wouldn’t be able to make her stop.

That thought was vile to her.

She flipped through her contacts - maybe Dan? She sent him a quick, but hopefully unobtrusive text. She would’ve called Maze, except, well, Maze doesn’t have a phone - or at least not one that Chloe knew of. Lucifer did have a-

Of course. Chloe could have slapped herself. Lucifer had a therapist, didn’t he? And Lucifer had a weird habit of leaving his phone on the very edge of every elevated horizontal surface there was.

Chloe grabbed up said phone from where is precariously balanced on her desk, flipping through the contacts.

There were a lot of Brendas in this. And a lot of Steves. And a lot of- okay, this contact list had more names in it than there were people in LA.

Chloe clicked on “Dr. Linda”, putting the now-ringing phone up to her ear. She looked back at Lucifer, who was still shaking and gasping like a drowning man on the floor.

“Oh please, please pick up already.” Chloe muttered.

It did, after another moment of silence, punctuated only by Lucifer’s choked breathing.

“Lucifer?”

“Dr. Martin?” Chloe ditched formalities. “I think Lucifer needs your help.”

“I knew something was wrong. I’ll be right there. Where are you? What’s happening?”

Chloe distinctly heard the sound of tires squealing, deciding not to mention that driving and calling were against the law. Lucifer was more important than that, right now.

“We’re in the precinct.” Chloe looked back at Lucifer, debating how much to say. Linda was a therapist, she had confidentiality. It wasn’t really breaking his trust, was it?

She doubted Lucifer would see it that way.

Vague it is. For now.

“He… had some hurt him, a couple weeks ago. He just came back to the precinct today, and he’s, um, currently having a panic attack on the floor of an office.”

“Well, fuck.”

“You can say that again.” Chloe frowned. “Do you have Maze’s number, by any chance?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I do, actually. She somehow engraved it into my steering wheel today - I don’t know how she even got in, the doors were locked - but yeah, I can text her for you.”

“Good. Do it.” Chloe shook her head. “I don’t know what kind of relationship Maze and Lucifer have, but he needs her right now. He needs us.”

“I’m on my way. And, oh dear,” Linda didn’t sound particularly upset, “It appears Maze is bringing quote, “her favorite knives”.”

“You said a person did this?” Linda asked carefully.

“Yeah.” Chloe glanced around the precinct again - Malcolm was nowhere in sight. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. He was lucky, actually, considering Maze's threat.

“Well, I’ll ask Maze to bring an extra one for me, then.”

“Linda!”

“I’m just kidding.” Linda didn’t sound like she was joking, particularly.

“Just hurry.”

Chloe put down the phone. It seemed that, once again, she was having a very basic conflict - on the one hand, she had these pesky little things called laws to follow. On the other, she wanted Malcolm dead and gone. He had forfeited his right to existence the moment he had hurt Lucifer.

This had gone too far. Lucifer may not want Chloe to pursue a case, might want her to let it go. And she wasn’t going to violate that - not after so much of Lucifer’s existence had been attacked - but she was going to help him make sure he never had to see Malcolm again.

Even if that meant she had to kill him herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet another chapter into the void
> 
> :)
> 
> Oh btw I've edited this chapter to clarify a plot piece that readers were missing/getting confused by.


	12. Chapter 12

Lucifer was confident he was convincing Chloe nothing had happened.

Sure, she kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye, sure she kept glancing around as if watching, sure she was a little bit tense and talking to him quietly but that was just because of before.

She didn’t know what had happened now. Not this time. She knew about before - decidedly not a good thing, but he could manage that.

He could handle that.

Somehow.

This would be fine.

Lucifer saw Chloe glance at him again, and he bit back a frustrated comment. He didn’t like her looking at him like he was a victim, but saying anything would only make her more worried. Or worse, angry at him.

Humans didn’t like it when their perceived thoughtfulness was rejected.

Not that Chloe would take it personally - just that she _might_.

And Lucifer refused to take that chance.

He would never risk anything when it came to the Detective. No matter how slight the chances.

Which was why he held himself back now.

After everything Malcolm had done, it would be absolutely wretched of him to express anger at her.

Not when he was hiding the truth from her.

Not when he could still feel the caked blood that he hadn’t been able to quite fully scrub off sticking to his thighs.

He just wanted Chloe to stop looking at him, so he could keep keep it together.

“So I don’t think that Cole was actually a rep, he seems a bit-”

It was quiet.

Lucifer frowned, leaning forward slightly, ignoring the slight pain of the movement. Chloe was motionless - truly _motionless_ \- paper mid-turn in a folder, eyebrows furrowed. The hum of the precinct, a mixture of voices speaking and footsteps clomping and paper rustling, was gone.

There was only one cause of this.

Amenadiel.

Did he know what had happened? Did _Heaven_ know what happened?

Oh, how they would lord it over him. How far Lucifer had Fallen, to be debased by a mere mortal like this. Not like it mattered what they thought - especially since they never seemed to think much at all - but this could only ever cause him more trouble.

Lucifer tamped down on his rising concern, schooling his face into one of casual aloofness. He could play this off, he could act like it was fine - if he pissed Amenadiel off enough, his blessed brother would just storm off again, instead of looking too far into anything.

Lucifer looked around, eyes narrowing. There were footsteps, two pairs. Amenadiel had brought backup? Maybe they were just going to haul him into Hell now, try to circumvent the whole “can’t force him” thing.

Lucifer stayed still, mentally preparing himself to fight. He was in no condition to win, he knew. Not when he was mortal, not when he had already been… weakened, by Malcolm. But at least he could waste time until he found a way out, until he found a loophole to slip through.

Lucifer saw Amenadiel walk past, his voice carrying through the now-silent precinct.

“-thought you would have taken care of him by now.”

Another voice spoke, and Lucifer felt every muscle in his body tense, screaming at him to _run_ , breath cutting off.

“Look, he needs a delicate touch, all right? I’m working my way in, don’t worry. Luci-boy will be back in Hell where he belongs in no time.” Malcolm walked into view.

“Do not call him that.” Amenadiel growled, “I know what I am asking you to do, but do not think that you have any real power over him. Only what I am _allowing_ you to have. I’m the one who raised you from the dead, and if you can’t cut it, I _will_ find someone else to do the job. _Do you understand?_ ”

“Yeah, yeah, man, I got it. I’m gonna take care of Lucifer, okay? I’ll finish it soon, just…”

Malcolm’s voice faded away, replaced by the roaring in Lucifer’s ears.

Amenadiel had brought Malcolm back from the dead.

Amenadiel was the reason this had all happened.

Unless…

No. No, that didn’t make sense. Amenadiel would never have _ordered_ Malcolm to-

Amenadiel planned out everything, always had. Ever since the beginning of time. Had he planned out all of this?

Amenadiel knew Lucifer was mortal. It would have been easy to send a human after him. To kill him. To hurt him?

It made sense, in a twisted way.

Lucifer and Malcolm had made the initial deal, it had been done. This second time… had it been by Amenadiel’s hand?

It didn’t seem Amenadiel’s style, but then, there was nothing he wouldn’t justify for the sake of their Father.

Still, even if Malcolm had done it on his own… Amenadiel must know. Must have approved it to some extent, for it to have been able to happen.

Amenadiel would never have let a human under his command hurt Lucifer, unless he had condoned it himself.

Amenadiel knew.

Amenadiel was okay with it. Had possibly encouraged it.

Lucifer sat back in the chair, brain short circuiting. He couldn’t - this was too much. Humans, he understood. They were susceptible to their... less-advisable desires. But, even after all of this time, after everything Amenadiel had done over the millenia, Lucifer had always believed there was some, albeit misguided, good to him.

He was still his brother, even if Amenadiel chose to believe that that bond was separated the moment Lucifer Fell.

But if Amenadiel was in charge of Malcolm - Malcolm worked for him.

Lucifer’s hands clenched, eyes staring at the spot Amenadiel stood - oh, he was gone now. So was Malcolm. Lucifer was frozen in place, immovable.

He could handle pain - he could handle Malcolm.

But Amenadiel? All of this because of him?

Lucifer was wired, ready to spring up and rip Amenadiel to shreds.

Except he wasn’t.

He was just tired.

Ready to move, ready to fight, but unable to bring himself to kill Amenadiel.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Malcolm wasn’t going to stop, and if Lucifer killed him Amenadiel would just resurrect him.

Again, and again, and again.

There was no escape.

The earth would never be safe, for Lucifer. Never.

Malcolm would never die - not permanently.

Lucifer had no recourse. He had no escape. His deal with Malcolm was for nothing. He was stuck either way. He couldn’t even wait a generation for Malcolm to die, Amenadiel would just bring him back. Forever.

Oh, it was times like these Lucifer wished his brother was as stupid as Lucifer liked to poke fun at him for.

He had almost forgotten that Amenadiel was a soldier.

And soldiers would do anything to win.

Even agree to have their little brother - no, their enemy, because that’s what Lucifer was now, right? - get rap- get hurt.

Lucifer was trapped, wholly and unequivocally. For all eternity.

It was brilliant, truly, twistedly brilliant.

Amenadiel had poisoned the Earth for Lucifer. For eternity.

The only place Lucifer would ever be himself, be in control of his life again, would be in Hell.

He would have to go back. He would have to leave Chloe.

It didn’t matter what Lucifer _wanted_ , it never did. Free will only existed for the humans, after all. Never for him.

Never for him.

Never.

\----  
Lucifer slowly became aware of someone calling his name. He should probably pay attention to it, but he really just didn’t care enough.

There was no point whether he bothered to respond or not - he had no choice in the matter, not really. Even his deals gave him no true freedom - how could they? How could they ever even begin to fix any of this? His nerves were screaming at him to _do something_ , but Lucifer couldn’t seem to bring himself to move.

He felt someone - Chloe, he thought, because no one else would dare speak to him when he was so clearly _tense_ \- move, and he followed, walking behind her.

He was pretty sure she was talking to him, so he choked out a few wordless vocalizations along the lines of “hmm,” and “mmhmm”. She didn’t need to know the tempest in his head - he just needed time to process, and then he’d be able to push it down and keep going.

If only he could actually process. It hurt to think, so he decided to just not do that anymore.

Chloe’s voice faded away, and Lucifer let his mind go blank. The blankness didn’t hurt. It was cold, and numb, but it didn’t hurt. He didn’t need to think about Malcolm, or Amenadiel, or the feeling of blood tacky against his skin, or anything.

He could just exist.

Lucifer wasn’t sure existing was even a good thing anymore.

Time didn’t exist, didn’t matter. He could spend the rest of eternity in here, in this empty space where his head should be. It wouldn’t matter what Malcolm did to him - he wouldn’t feel anything.

Oh, to not feel the pain anymore, to not feel the fear and the hurt and the _betrayal_. After all, it wasn’t like there was anything for him outside. Just Chloe - who he had betrayed - and Malcolm and Amenadiel and Hell and…

He was thinking again.

No, no, he liked it blank, he wanted it blank again. But the edges of reality were inching in, creeping, twitching and growing at the edge of his mind.

No. Just a few more millenia, just a few more, it felt nice to not feel, the world _hurt_ and it wasn’t fair-

He felt someone touch his hand, and the pleasant blankness he was so desperately clinging to ripped away in an instant, casting him headfirst back into _everything_.

Lucifer gasped, pulling back to punch - he didn’t want to feel, he didn’t want to-

Chloe’s horrified face stared back at him.

Lucifer froze, dropping his hand, grabbing onto the chair arms - he couldn’t hurt Chloe, he couldn’t do that, and he tried to tell her that, he tried to but no words would come out and his breathing had gone from nonexistent to a rapid gasping.

He had to tell her he didn’t want to hurt her, he _had_ to, but he kept stammering and choking and Chloe was still just staring at him with that expression that looked so scared and he caused that _he caused that_ and no no no this was bad he didn’t want to do that this wasn’t supposed to have happened, Chloe was never supposed to get hurt, he could never hurt Chloe, and he couldn’t breath and his chest hurt and his entire body hurt and everything _hurt_. Lucifer got to his feet, but the world shifted under him and someone was trying to touch him and then he was on the ground and his whole body just hurt so much.

Lucifer couldn’t see anything, vision spotting black from some mixture of the pain, panic, breathing, he didn’t even know at this point. His entire existence was a haze and all he knew was that he was completely and totally powerless, completely and totally _screwed_.

“Chloe…” Lucifer choked, terrified that she had gone. If she had gone, if she had left, he wouldn’t be able to… “Help,” His eyes were filling with tears, wanting to reach out so he knew she was there, but not wanting to be touched because if she touched him he might hurt her.

He didn’t deserve that, not when it could hurt her.

Lucifer heard Chloe speaking, but he didn’t know what she was saying and he couldn’t make his brain function enough to hear anything except the sound of his own heaving breaths filling the air.

“-ifer. Lucifer,” Chloe’s voice swam into and out of existence. “Please, Lucifer, you’re safe. I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

Lucifer couldn’t see her, he needed her, he _needed_ her, but he couldn’t reach out he just _couldn’t_ , but Chloe would never touch him unless he asked for it - both in comfort and in the amount of debt he was racking up that she would one day collect, he was sure - and so Lucifer just kept shaking, gasping, wanting to slip back into that nice little unreality, but not able to seem to go back into it. That tempting blankness swam just at the edge of his mind, floating away every time he tried to desperately grab it to give himself anything, anything to escape this.

So Chloe kept her distance, and Lucifer was so incredibly grateful for it, even as he felt his mind slipping further and further into disorganization.

At least when it all hurt, Lucifer could pretend it didn’t.

If only he could make himself pretend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the missing time-that-didn't-happen
> 
> You already know I'm going to shill for comments.


	13. Chapter 13

Maze kicked the door of the precinct open with a bang, striding through officers, shoving them aside as she went. A few practically went flying, and the others backed off, clearing her a path.

It didn't matter that they were cops. Something about her was truly terrifying. Maybe it was because they had a low-level awareness of her wrongness. Maybe because the way her eyes glinted just that litle bit off, the hint of wrongness - her demon face - creeping out from under her human skin just enough to be unsettling, giving that subconscious hint of wrongness without any visual confirmation they could process rationally.

Maze was a demon incarnate, and all would step aside.

She had a king to defend.

She could _smell_ Lucifer - fire and brimstone and _home_.

She kicked open the door to the office, too, causing cracks to appear through the darkened glass it was comprised of.

Chloe’s head shot up, one hand going to her gun, before taking it the sight of Maze. She visibly relaxed, hand inching towards Lucifer minutely before hesitating, and then dropping to her side.

“It’s you. Good. Lucifer-”

Maze tackled Chloe with a snarl, knives out and gleaming mere millimeters from Chloe’s throat.

“What. Did. You. Do?” She growled, one knee pushed against Chloe’s sternum, keeping her down.

Chloe raised her hands defensively, resisting the cop instincts telling her to disarm Maze. Maze would eviscerate her without hesitation.

“Nothing. I swear. He just started acting like this a few minutes ago, I didn’t-”

“Bullshit.” Maze’s teeth were bared, “He’s been off ever since you came by a couple weeks ago. So I’ll ask again - What did you do? Answer me, Decker, or I’ll rip the information from your throat.”

“It wasn’t me.” Chloe didn’t want to break Lucifer’s trust. He’d asked her not to tell, so she was going to try not to. “Lucifer made me promise not to tell anyone, I can’t- but it wasn’t me.”

“I’m not _anyone_.” Maze spat, even as she drew her blades slightly further against Chloe’s neck, eyes narrowed. She couldn’t sense a lie the same way Lucifer could, but she could see clearly enough that Chloe was hiding something. Humans were always so obvious.

“There was someone who came by before I did that day. He was the one who - who affected Lucifer. His name’s Malcolm-”

Chloe was interrupted by a small whimper that slipped out of Lucifer’s throat. Maze whipped her head to stare at him, fury immediately melting into what felt like concern - if demons were capable of that, anyway. She pulled off Chloe without a second thought, knives vanishing away somewhere.

“My king.” Maze knelt by his shaking side, ignoring the look Chloe was throwing her.

Chloe was irrelevant.

Only Lucifer mattered right now.

“I will defend you. From all.” Maze reached out one hand, taking Lucifer’s clenched hand away from his waist.

Chloe started forward - but then Lucifer relaxed visibly, gripping Maze’s hand so tightly she heard the sound of bones cracking.

Maze continued without a hitch, seemingly not even noticing, voice oddly calm. “What you see coming, and what you do not. I am your right hand. I will not leave your side unless you command it of me. I swore my allegiance, and I will allow no danger to touch you.” Maze’s eyes met Chloe’s, that edge of her demonic face creeping in, even as her voice was soft, gentle. “No matter what form it may take.”

Maze lifted Lucifer up to sit up further, peel his back away from the office desk. His head fell against Maze’s shoulder, body collapsing against hers, seemingly turned to jelly. Maze merely wrapped one arm around his back in a half-embrace, other hand still being effectively crushed by Lucifer’s.

Maze didn’t even blink, just kept repeating her oath. To any other, it would seem absurd - strange words with no meaning - but to Lucifer, it was her deal. Her promise. Oath sworn in blood, literally. It was a reminder that, so long as she lived - in her soulless way - she would protect him. There was nothing she feared.

Except, it wasn’t entirely true. Not anymore. Whatever had caused Lucifer to become like this… she feared that it would cause more damage than he could move past.

Not that it would kill him. She would never allow that to happen.

Just that it would not do to see her king suffer on his throne.

Lucifer’s breathing slowly came back under control, shaking fading away to the occasional twitch. His eyes were still screwed tightly shut, and Maze rubbed his shoulder with her free hand. The exactness of it, the precise way in which Maze offered the exact amount of contact, affection, vocalization, seemed practiced.

It contrasted sharply with her rage-filled gaze that she fixed Chloe with, even as she softly repeated her same mantra over and over again, hand pressing into Lucifer’s shoulder hard enough to bruise.

Lucifer was strange in that sense. She had seen him similarly a mess before, back in Hell. More often than not, what he wanted was physical contact - just the right amount, with just that little bit of pain to keep him grounded.

Maze understood wanting pain.

It was the softness that confused her.

But she had been a fast learner - in a way, her willingness to be exactly as soft as needed was part of what made her Lucifer’s right hand to begin with.

Most demons would rather impale themselves than be caught in a position like the one she was currently sitting in.

They were fools.

When their king needed help, their arrogance prevented them from doing their jobs.

In service of her king, she would adopt kittens and help children chase unicorns. Not without complaint, of course. But because if it would help him, she would do it without hesitation.

Not that she enjoyed it - it felt off, for her. Almost disgusting. But then, she was a demon.

Lucifer might be the Devil, but he was an angel too.

And angels, apparently, liked cuddles.

Lucifer’s breathing evened out, and his grip on her hand finally loosened, then let go to rest on her leg. Maze lifted her hand nonchalantly, glancing at the rapidly purpling skin, swelling, and outlines of bones shifted out of place disinterestedly.

The sound of the door crashing open - again - sent Maze’s head whipping to appraise the situation, broken hand already wrapping around the handle of a knife tucked into her jacket.

It was Linda.

Linda, who was gaping at Maze, astonished. “How did you-? When I called, you were still at the bar!”

“Don’t question it.” Maze shrugged, hand dropping back to Lucifer’s.

Linda’s eyes widened, and she looked, somehow, even more worried. “Your hand! Oh, Mazikeen, what happened?”

“Don’t question it.” Maze replied again, before tilting her head to Lucifer. “Just… take care of him? I need to have a talk with Chloe.”

“Don’t do anything stupid. We’re in a police station.” Linda warned, even as she stepped to Lucifer’s other side.

When Maze made to move, however, Lucifer tensed up, breath catching. Maze, unbothered, moved back down.

“I am your right hand. I will not leave your side unless you command it of me.” Maze reminded, still in that strangely gentle voice.

“Don’t go.” Lucifer choked out, hand digging into Maze’s leather-clad leg.

“I won’t.” Maze assured, hand resuming its slightly-to-hard rubbing up and down Lucifer’s shoulder.

Maze looked up to Chloe, eyes lit with rage. Her voice was gentle as she spoke. “You will tell me what you did to him or I will rip you apart piece by piece.”

“I told you-” Chloe began, but was cut off by Linda.

“Wait, what? Detective, I thought you said someone else had hurt him.” Linda interjected.

“As I said already, it was Mal-” Chloe cut herself off, glancing down at Lucifer. Last time she’d said his name, it had upset him. “It was the guy who came by before I did.”

Maze’s eyes narrowed even further. “How do I know-”

The door opened again.

“-got your text, Chloe, what’s going o-oh shit.” Dan cursed, quickly closing the door behind him as he took in the sight.

“What is this, a fucking get-together?” Maze snarled. “Decker. Answer the question before I _make_ you. How do I know-?”

“Hey, don’t threaten Chloe!” Dan interrupted. “It’s not her fault Lucifer got hurt.”

“So he has been hurt?” Maze asked, forcing her voice back to going friendly for the sake of Lucifer, who was still somewhat out of it. But there was no mistaking the glint in her eyes as anything short of murderous. “By who?”

“Malcolm.” Chloe said carefully, trying to keep Lucifer from reacting to it.

Lucifer twitched again, and he seemed to push himself further against Maze.

Maze’s eyebrows were raised practically to her hairline.

“Alright. Where do I find him?”

“I don’t know. He was here - he was literally _just_ here a second ago,” Dan frowned, “But he vanished. Literally vanished. I don’t-”

Realization flickered across Maze’s face, before she seemed to turn even angrier. “I see. I will rectify the situation. Thank you for notifying me.”

“Woah, Mazikeen,” Linda spoke up, “Don’t do anything rash, alright?”

“Oh, no, there’ll be nothing rash about it.” Maze was grinning so wide it almost hurt, “I’ll be sure to take my time.”

“Malcolm did this?” Dan asked, as Lucifer flinched again. “Oh, sorry. But he did this to Lucifer? Chloe, you should’ve told me. He’s been causing this precinct problems for years, he fucking kidnapped me two weeks ago-”

“What?” Chloe asked, voice laced with concern. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing. He was just planning on… killing Lucifer, actually. Wanted to frame me.”

“You knew someone who was trying to kill Lucifer and you didn’t do anything?” Maze asked.

“I was kinda busy trying to escape a basement! And I did try to stop him, but by the time I got loose Lucifer was barricading himself up in his nightclub.”

“Malc- He was trying to kill Lucifer?” Chloe frowned. “It didn’t seem very deadly.” Why would Malcolm have gone from being intent on murdering Lucifer to... well, this?

“What did it seem like?” Linda asked carefully.

“I’m not able to answer that-”

“Don’t protect him, Chloe!” “Decker, I’m going to spill his guts either way so really it’s for the best if you let me know!” “Maybe we should all take a moment to collect ourselves, okay? Everyone’s getting a bit emotional.” “I’m not answering the fucking question!” “That’s not your decision to make-”

“Stop!” Lucifer spoke. He was breathing heavily, one hand still wrapped protectively around his midriff, head lowered. When he spoke, his voice shook. “All of you… just stop. Just stop. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hgh
> 
> I... love maze. she and Lucifer are connected through eons and I know you guys want Chloe there the way she is in this, but they aren't at that level yet. Maze is important to Lucifer. She understand aspects of the deals and Lucifer's inner workings that Chloe doesn't understand.
> 
> comblemts pls


	14. Chapter 14

Lucifer ran a shaking hand down his leg, wanting desperately to run his fingers through his hair but not daring to, in an attempt to get himself collected.

It didn’t work.

Everyone else in the office had fallen silent, watching him intently.

Well, at least they had stopped fighting. He didn’t doubt that Maze would have ripped everyone in the room to shreds for his sake, and he would really prefer if he got to explain it himself.

Maze would understand. She always did.

Lucifer licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry. Nervousness speaking? Inability to string words together coherently? Not to mention that frankly pathetic display he had going on just moments ago. He really was turning mortal - and into a complete wash of one at that.

“I…” He trailed off. They were all staring at him. He stared back.

Maze was staring at him, eyes practically - no, literally - blazing. Her hand on his shoulder was still incredibly gentle, even as she seemed to be boiling with barely contained anger. Even though Lucifer knew it wasn’t directed at him - well, actually that wasn’t entirely true, he was sure he was right furious at him for keeping so much from her for so long - the fact that she was touching him and _see not all touches have to hurt, remember? People can touch and not be trying to cause pain-_

Lucifer looked away from her.

Linda’s face was schooled into a very professional, “empathetic yet indifferent” look that all therapists had. Or at least, she was trying to. He could see she was rattled easily enough - after all, if she was good at her job she would have realized that all those ‘allegories’ weren’t exactly that, something Lucifer had found himself perpetually annoyed by - funny how priorities change. It seemed so stupid, now. But he could see it in the way she seemed so unnaturally stiff, how her head was tilted higher than normal. She was trying to get on top of her emotions - literally.

Dan just looked confused. For once, Lucifer didn’t hold it against him. He couldn’t be bothered. Lucifer wanted to be dismissive, but found that he couldn’t. Dan had been kidnapped by Malcolm? He may act above it, but Lucifer knew how to pay attention. Sometimes. Hm. Well, Lucifer couldn’t really judge Dan for being confused - he felt pretty damn confused, himself.

Lucifer forced himself to look at Chloe. He didn’t want to see whatever she had on her mind and written on her face. When he saw her, his heart sank, just a bit. Chloe looked - well, she just looked _sad_. His eyes moved lower and his heart just… he didn’t know organs could move so much.

Her hands were clenched in on themselves, skin white from the amount of pressure she was exerting on herself. They were trembling slightly, and she seemed to clench them even harder at that. She kept blinking.

He was going to make her cry. Again

He would rather rip out his own eyes than have to see her upset like this. Alternatively, he could beg her forgiveness again, even after the failed attempt before. He didn’t have the strength to do either. Not after everything. He barely even had the capacity to think coherently, right now.

“I… I was approached by Malcolm in the penthouse. Before the gala.” Funny, how the entire gala had just slipped his mind. That entire case. He couldn’t remember the name of anyone, remember anyplace, about it. All he remembered was running his fingers through his hair to make it look just right, doing up buttons on his shirt that he would just as soon have to undo-

Lucifer dug his nails into his leg. He had already had one - whatever this was -, and he didn’t need to deal with another. Hiding wasn’t working anymore. And he barely had the energy to stand, let alone run. He took a shuddering breath, and continued.

“He wanted to kill me. Because of-” He hesitated, glancing at Maze. “My brother.”

Her expression was already murderous, and she had already known. But that confirmation made her face turn even darker. One hand dug into the floor of the office, as the other remained perfectly gentle resting on Lucifer’s shoulder.

Dan frowned, mouthing the word ‘brother?’ to Chloe, who shrugged tensely.

“And then what happened, Lucifer?” Linda asked, at some point having apparently sat down during all of this, their faces level with one another.

“I, um, offered him a deal.”

Lucifer could see Maze’s expression shift to one of careful understanding, even as Chloe’s seemed to crumple further.

She already knew this part. There was no reason for her to become more upset about it.

“I offered my life in exchange for, erm, benefits. Not really that much of a concept, pretty standard, just an exchange of things of value. I just wasn’t quite as okay with trading what I made a deal for as I thought, is all. Which is my own responsibility-”

“Lucifer.” Maze interrupted. “What did you exchange?”

“My Pentecostal coin.”

“So? That thing’s fucking useless. What else?”

“Some… witty banter, I suppose.”

“Lucifer.” Maze’s voice was serious. More so than usual. Lucifer hadn’t known that was possible.

“I offered him, um, my… uh,” Lucifer couldn’t seem to bring himself to say the words. _It’s not a big deal, it’s not important, just explain it so they’ll understand and stop trying to fix it._ “Body.” He finished lamely, voice unintentionally lowering, as if to make the meaning less… well, meaningful.

Chloe looked away, biting at her lip. Lucifer wanted to reach out to her, remind her that he was fine, now, that it had just been a deal, but he didn’t dare touch her. Not after he had almost hurt her - again.

Lucifer seemed to be making a habit of that.

How unacceptable.

Dan looked genuinely upset, face set hard into moral outrage - whether that was going to be directed at Lucifer or not, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Linda had a strange look on her face. Not entirely anything - but maybe every emotion except confusion, if that was possible. He knew she knew what he had meant, but he couldn’t read her at all. Lucifer wanted to know what was running through her head, but he didn’t dare ask. He didn’t want to know. Not if it was towards him.

Linda’s disapproval hurt.

After all, there was a reason he had ended their sessions. He had never wanted to see her face when she eventually realized just how much he had fucked up.

And Maze.

Maze was… Maze.

Her hand on him was still so gentle.

The cracking sound indicated her other hand had dug its way through the flooring.

“Lucifer, I understand.” She was the first to talk. Her voice was even, a forced calmness coating her words. “You made a deal.”

“Yes.” Lucifer could feel the tension slip from his shoulders. Of course Maze would understand, he knew she would. She always would.

Lucifer wondered what would have happened if he had just told Maze immediately what had happened. Maybe he’d be fine now.

“I think we’ll still need to kill him, though. Knows too much.”

Ah. That was Maze too, all right.

“Can’t punish within the confines of the deal, Maze.”

“I wouldn’t be punishing him for his actions. I’d be punishing him for his _knowledge_.” Maze pointed out, voice calm even as it edged with bloodlust.

“Can both of you just… hold that thought?” Dan interrupted. “Look, I’m not saying don’t kill him, or do kill him, or, well, actually I don’t think… okay look, Lucifer. Why didn’t you just file a report?”

“Lucifer didn’t want people to know.” Chloe spoke, having been silent since Lucifer had asked them to stop. “Besides, Dan, Malcolm’s a cop. A married cop. And Lucifer’s- well, he’s… not shy. You think anyone would believe him over… um, him? What matters, though, is he didn’t want to file, so I didn’t.”

Lucifer hadn’t actually thought about how people would think he was a liar - it seemed absurd. Him, lie? But if that was how Chloe chose to interpret “no punishment within the confines of the deal”, then fine. He was sick of arguing semantics. Sick of being forced to pick Malcolm’s side just because everyone else didn’t know how to listen to him.

Linda was still just staring off into space, deep in thought. Lucifer let her be - one less person he had to explain himself to. Maybe she was compiling the list of things he would need to talk about in therapy. That seemed most likely, actually, disregarding the fact that he had quit. He was sure she was going to have opinions about that, though. Especially now. Since only Maze understood how deals work, considering no one else listened.

Well, Chloe did. To an extent. She kept it a secret for him, even with Maze bearing down on her - an impressive feat, actually. Sure, she had called Linda, but Lucifer couldn't blame her. Not after he’d tried to hurt her. She could’ve shot him dead in self-defense and he wouldn’t have held it against her. Although it was definitely for the best that she hadn't - Lucifer doubted Maze would be so forgiving.

It was clear that Chloe didn’t entirely understand the actual meaning of deals. But she did understand that it was important to him, and she seemed to be genuinely trying to respect it, for his sake. To her, the deals made no sense. But because they mattered to him, she treated them just as seriously as she would if she did.

In a way, that made her actions even more meaningful.

Lucifer smiled sadly at her, and she smiled tightly back, mouth twisted in unhappiness.

“I guess I get that for him. But, Chlo,” Dan frowned, “They’re both your coworkers. We have regulations, you’d have to file either way.”

Lucifer jerked slightly. He hadn’t known that.

“Well, I’m _supposed_ to, but… look, Lucifer made me promise, okay?” She glanced at him. “I figured once he changed his mind, I could file then. Or if anything happened again.”

“Chloe… you’re not the sort of person to break the rules like that. I know you. You filed a potential relationship conflict of interest form the afternoon I asked you out.”

Maze raised an eyebrow.

“I know. But this is Lucifer we’re talking about. He’s…” Chloe gestured at Lucifer haplessly, “He’s not… just a regular coworker now, is he? If he said he didn’t want people to know, I figured he was serious.” She paused. “You’re not going to file, are you?”

Lucifer’s head whipped to lookat Dan fully, breath catching in his throat again. _No, no, he told them everything, why couldn’t they ever just be satisfied and leave it alone-_

“Nah, I’m not really the paperwork kinda guy. Besides, you’re right. If Lucifer says not to do something… you don’t do it. And if you ask me not to do something, I won’t, either.” Dan shrugged, suddenly overly aloof.

Hm. Dan was just as bad at admitting his feelings as Lucifer was at admitting his… deal.

“So this hasn’t happened again, though, right?” Dan asked suddenly, the barely hidden concern that had been lurking in his voice this whole time dropping into full display. His entire body language had changed, too, in seemingly an instant, going from closed off to open, almost welcoming.

Chloe, too, was looking at Lucifer, and Maze was still watching him kindly, with the fires of Hell burning behind her eyes. Even Linda managed to pull herself out of whatever wormhole she had stuck her head into, eyes focusing for the first time since Lucifer had told them.

This was his chance. Like it or not, the people that mattered already knew about the deal. Chloe knew. She was going to be _reminded_ of it from everything now - Dan, Linda, Maze, the gouge in the floor that Maze was digging, the cracked glass in the door - everything was going to remind her of how he had betrayed her.

Everything.

There was nothing more to protect her from. Nothing he could do to defend himself from her eventual disappointment that he knew was festering inside of her.

The second deal… Lucifer could put an end to it. He knew that, even with Maze, the likelihood they would all agree to do nothing when the deal was ongoing was not likely to happen. Past events, sure, he could - and had - convinced them all to leave it be. But something that was happening now? Something that had happened, what, a couple hours ago? They would never agree to let it drop.

But it also wasn’t like he could lie and tell them no.

Telling them would be a relief. They could figure out a way to make the deal be fulfilled, or find a way to end the deal on Malcolm’s side. Something.

They could end this. Not permanently of course - Malcolm was apparently immortal now, thanks to Amenadiel. But it could buy him enough time to figure out something else. Anything else.

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“Which one of you broke the damn door?” The Chief asked, exasperated, hair frizzy and cup of coffee sloshing around. “Decker, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! The case? Cole Millard? Have you made any progress? C’mon! We need to close that one, before Qualcomm buries it.”

She didn’t even seem to notice the huddle of people on the ground, or how Lucifer’s too-pale skin and curled frame looked far too much like a victim’s body than anything else.

“Get on it, Decker. And tell these idiots to stop meditating.” She turned around to open the door and it jammed, thrown off its alignment thanks to Maze. “Christ on a pogo stick, just-” She flung the door open, and stormed out. Chloe turned back to them apologetically.

“Sorry, I should… go.” She seemed to hover awkwardly between wanting to offer Lucifer an embrace and not wanting to upset him, and eventually decided to just awkwardly pat his shoe. “See you around, yeah? And… I care about you.”

Dan stood up as well. “I should get to work too. Look, I know we don’t always get along-”

Lucifer scoffed.

“Okay, at all really.” Dan amended. “But I got your back, alright? This sort of thing… no one should experience that, man. And you shouldn’t feel like you have to deal with it alone. So… you don’t. Have to, I mean. I’m here, if you ever want to talk. Or just… whatever.”

“Thanks.” Lucifer replied, a bit dumbfounded. He hadn’t really expected Dan to be… okay with this. If anything, Lucifer had expected anger, towards him. In a way, Lucifer had hoped for it. Getting outraged at Dan would have meant he had a reason to have energy. All this softness, kindness… it felt wrong.

No one had ever treated him like this. Not since well before he fell. The closest thing was Maze, and even she only used it when he asked her to.

Which was rarely.

He had forgotten how nice it felt, though. If he were deserving of it, he’d ask her to do it more often.

Linda spoke up from across from him, therapist voice mode fully activated. “You and I are going to have a session. We need one, okay? I know you quit, but… I think it would be really important right now.”

Lucifer shook his head.

“You only stopped seeing me because you didn’t want me to know. Well, now I know. So there’s no reason not to. Unless there’s anything else you don’t want me to know?”

Linda was backing him into a corner. She knew that- somehow, she _knew_ there was something else.

Lucifer couldn’t say no, even if he had wanted to. He had missed Linda, in a way. Besides, this would give him a chance to find out where she zoned off to when he was talking. And he’d have the opportunity to explain the “deal” again. If he could make her understand, she’d be able to stop worrying and would no longer be concerned.

And, selfishly, he knew that going to see Linda meant another section of time that he was busy with ‘real life’, and Malcolm couldn’t get near him.

Linda scheduled a meeting with him, then and there, before asking if he wanted to talk now.

“No, no, I think I just want to… go back to the penthouse.” Not his home - maybe it could have been, but not now, not with the bar footrest and the sound of metal scraping against metal and he swore he could still smell gunpowder when he was in there-

“Okay, that’s okay. Maze, will you-?”

“I got him.” Maze’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly on his shoulder protectively. “I’ll make sure he stays safe.”

“Thank you.” Linda nodded. She stood up, as well, and left.

“C’mon, let’s go.” Maze stood up, and Lucifer followed suit. He stumbled a bit, his body deciding to remind itself that it was still damaged.

Maze didn’t mention it, seeming to assume it was because of everything that had happened. That she knew of, at least.

She had used a motorcycle to get to the precinct.

That wasn’t going to work. Lucifer could feel his lower back ache just thinking about it.

Lucifer instead walked over to his car, top down, and Maze lifted up her bike with one hand, depositing it in the backseat. The other hand stayed in place on Lucifer. Keeping him grounded.

Soon enough, they were back at LUX, and they took the elevator up to the penthouse. Maze seemed to hesitate for just a moment, before walking to the bed with Lucifer. He flopped down onto it, legitimately exhausted - something that was becoming entirely too common these past few weeks.

Maze laid down on the bed, and Lucifer shifted, head resting on her torso. On the rare instances he came to her like this, she would run her fingers through his hair silently, offering comfort through physical touch. Not everything they did was just sex. He loved her, in a way, just as she did him.

But now, she did not touch his hair.

Because she was Maze.

And she always knew what to do, when she knew what was happening.

Instead, her hand rubbed circles against his shoulder - a safe spot, Malcolm hadn’t hurt him there - silent.

It was as perfect as it could be.

They lay there for a while, quiet, before Lucifer finally admitted.

“I should have told you sooner.”

“Yes.” Maze’s voice was stern, but still so gentle. “You should’ve.”

“I just didn’t want anyone to know.” It sounded pathetic, even - or perhaps especially - to his own ears.

“I’m not anyone.” Still no judgement.

“No, you’re not.”

They fell silent again. Slowly, Lucifer felt his eyes slip closed, feeling absolutely, totally weary.

Maze never once stopped rubbing his shoulder.

Maze tilted her head, once Lucifer’s breathing had evened out. With her, unfortunately appearing to be broken, but also only free hand, she dug her phone out of her pocket and opened it. A freshly formed group chat was full of messages between two certain detectives and a therapist, and she opened it with a wolfish grin spreading across her face.

 _I’ll bring the knives, you bring him._ She typed out, painstakingly slowly, her other hand never stopping its ministrations. She clicked her phone back closed.

That took care of Malcolm.

Now she just had to find that bastard Amenadiel and pluck each of his feathers off, one by one. Which wing she would start with would, of course, depend on whether or not she had finished comforting Lucifer by the time she had her chance. It would be quite impractical to torture Amenadiel with a broken hand, all while maintaining contact with Lucifer, but she was nothing if not creative.

After all, Mazikeen of the Lilith, Satan’s Right Hand, didn’t get her position because she knew how to forgive.

It simply wasn’t in her nature.

She wondered if it was in Malcolm’s nature to beg for mercy, or Amenadiel’s for that matter.

She supposed she would find out. For both of them.

No one hurt her King and lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: AWOL for a month  
> Also me: pls comment <3 :D
> 
> This is also lowkey my longest chapter? like ever?
> 
> ye. maze is like "oh yes i understand ~~i will kill Malcolm even more painfully than previously imagined~~ completely Lucifer"
> 
> also i acknowledged a comment from someone, (edit: azure_iolite) about how Chloe should have filed a report because Malcolm and Lucifer are coworkers, in this chapter.


	15. Chapter 15

Amenadiel was… furious.

Well, maybe furious wasn’t the right word. Annoyed, perhaps.

Being away from Heaven had been discomforting - he didn’t like being separated from the Silver City for too long, and Lucifer always, _always_ found a way to make it take too long.

Even Amenadiel’s attempt to bypass the “no killing” rule by having a damned soul ki- _return_ Lucifer, wasn’t exactly proving effective. It’d been nearly a month, in human time, and - although by all accounts immortal - it wasn’t exactly convenient to have it be taking that long.

And Amenadiel was, quite infamously in fact, not known for his patience.

The human had a gun. The human had a chance to kill Lucifer - so why, then, was Amenadiel still not _done_?

Lucifer did have a way of sticking around, burrowing down into wherever he chose to inhabit, entangling himself as much as possible. For the sole purpose, Amenadiel was convinced, of making it harder for him - or any other angel - to pull him out and deliver him back to where he belonged.

The idea that Lucifer wanted connections for anything more than a shield between himself and his siblings was absurd. Lucifer enjoyed humans the same way he enjoyed alcohol - a strange joy taken from altering his current state, from causing things around him to shift.

Why Lucifer always wanted things to be changing, Amenadiel never knew. The constant inconsistency was absolutely infuriating, as was the complete and total disregard for his brother’s time.

Ironic, really. Amenadiel controlled time, yet here he was, stuck waiting around for a pesky human to restore Lucifer to his rightful place - square in the middle of hell.

The lack of wings might pose an issue, actually, Amenadiel knew. But that was Lucifer’s problem. His fault for ripping them off - Amenadiel’s shoulders twitched at the thought. It was just another example of Lucifer’s wrongness - to cut off something so precious, just for the sake of spite. Just for a few more precious weeks on earth with the humans - no, that wasn’t it. A few more precious weeks on earth away from hell, more likely.

Really, it wasn’t even like Lucifer was suffering down there. He ruled it! Sure, it was painfully consistent, set in stone - literally, which probably wasn’t Lucifer’s favorite thing in the universe, but then, it was his job. Divinely given down, ordered and orchestrated perfectly, and all Lucifer had to do was sit there and make sure the place kept running smoothly. Sure, Lucifer was a glorified cog in a machine. But so was the rest of them. That was their function.

Lucifer was the one who couldn’t figure out that he wasn’t supposed to be in control. He never was.

In fact, Amenadiel was pretty sure the whole thing wasn’t that their Father didn’t love them as much as humans. He always suspected that Lucifer just wanted to alter something, just to show that he mattered. That he had an effect on something, anything.

But he didn’t.

That was the point.

Which was why this current little stalemate was so infuriating. Lucifer was trying to exhibit control, show that he was important. It was either a cry for attention or a plea for power, and either way Amenadiel want- needed to put a stop to it. Needed him to go back to being the Lord of hell, and back to doing his job. Hell’s self-sufficiency wouldn’t last. It couldn’t, because otherwise Lucifer wouldn’t have been put there.

Amenadiel knew Malcolm was in the precinct, which was why he was currently standing outside of it. The fact that they were both still coexisting in the same space, with Lucifer still alive, was enough to make Amenadiel’s annoyance start to morph into anger. There was no excuse, now. Amenadiel didn’t exactly want to barge in and make a scene, so a quick time spell later, Amenadiel was inside the precinct.

Malcolm was wearing an oddly wide smile as Amenadiel walked up to him. “Hey-o, my man. Missed seeing you around! How’s the weather been for you, flying around?”

“I’m not in the mood for chatter.” Amenadiel frowned.

“Never are. Don’t expect you to start today.”

“Lucifer? Tell me, why is he not dead yet? I thought you would have taken care of him by now.” Amenadiel began walking. 

“Look, he needs a delicate touch, all right? I’m working my way in, don’t worry. Luci-boy will be back in Hell where he belongs in no time.”

Malcolm followed behind him, half a step bacl.

“Do not call him that.” Amenadiel growled, “I know what I am asking you to do, but do not think that you have any real power over him. Only what I am allowing you to have. I’m the one who raised you from the dead, and if you can’t cut it, I will find someone else to do the job. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah, man, I got it. I’m gonna take care of Lucifer, okay? I’ll finish it soon, just… just hear me out.” Malcolm's grin faded a bit, turning almost hungry. "What if, before I kill him, I mess with him a bit? You know, spoil the whole earth thing for him.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean,” Malcolm licked his lips. “It’s my understanding that this isn’t the first time Lucy’s popped up here to, uh, to screw around,” Malcolm chuckled slightly, “If I can make it so earth’s no longer desirable, when I kill him later, he wouldn’t want to come back. Not for a while, at least. Give you more leeway from having to watch him all the time.”

Amenadiel frowned. It was true, Lucifer was always… scheming. It was a hassle having to always check to make sure he was still at his post, still doing his job. It would be nice to have Lucifer stop trying to sneak back to earth every time he turned his back. Hell, if earth became undesirable, there would be nowhere for Lucifer to go but back to hell. Still, there was one major problem with Malcolm’s little plan.

“Lucifer can’t get turned off from earth. He deals with the worst parts of humans in hell, there’s nothing here that you could do to make it less desirable than there.”

“I think I could.” Malcolm argued.

“Oh really? And how would you propose that?”

Malcolm hesitated, foot scuffing on the floor. His arrogance had melted into something more slimy, almost wheedling.

“Lucifer likes to enjoy things. Like… like sex, alcohol, attention, you know? If those things were spoiled for him, he wouldn’t want to stay. He’d go back and stay back.”

Amenadiel’s frown deepened. What Malcolm was suggesting technically made sense, but, “There’s no way one human could cause that much damage. It’s just not possible. Lucifer may be fallen, but he is still - technically - an angel. The amount of strategy would be far beyond human comprehension.”

“Well, I mean, I could still give it a try, yeah? It would only take a while, but the returns could be Lucifer being out of your way for a long time.”

“What would you even do?” Amenadiel could see the arrogance within him - as well as a strange sort of desperation that seemed to be based off of something. It couldn’t be related to Lucifer, though - therefore, Amenadiel did not care.

“Well, I had a few ideas,” Malcolm’s smile grew wider, “I could turn his pleasures against him. Turn sex into a weapon against him, hurt him - have some fun in the meantime, too, you know?”

Amenadiel’s eyes flashed, and he grabbed the front of Malcolm’s shirt, teleporting them to the edge of the roof on the precinct, his hand keeping Malcolm in the air, dangling over the side.

“Lucifer is a fallen angel. A being with more power than all of humanity combined. He will not be subjected to such a thing - I will not allow it.” Amenadiel spat.

“Okay, okay, it was just a suggestion! I’m not gay, anyways, so it wouldn’t work.” Malcolm raised his hands defensively.

With a scowl, Amenadiel plopped Malcolm onto the roof, wiping his hand off, disgusted by his contact with Malcolm.

“Your idea has been considered, and rejected. Now hurry up, and kill Lucifer.”

“But other methods could work, though! Make it so people don’t want to be around him - he likes attention, I make sure he doesn’t get any! Yeah?”

Amenadiel rubbed at the bridge of his nose, frustrated. Malcolm wasn’t giving it up, but he had a point. Amenadiel didn’t want to concede to it, though.

Unlike patience, stubborness was one of his traits.

“I said no. Do the job I raised you for, got it? Before I make you regret it.”

“Yes, boss.” Malcolm seemed a bit put out, but Amenadiel didn’t care. He was a dirty cop, he’d done all sorts of terrible things to people.

The fact that Malcolm had never killed anyone was notable, but then, Amenadiel had never had to make someone kill someone before, so it seemed fair. And even if it wasn’t, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t Amenadiel’s job to be fair. It was his job to send Lucifer back to Hell.

Then, if Lucifer left again, he could just tie him to his throne for a few centuries. See how well Lucifer could screw around on earth if he was trapped in hell for a bit. Amenadiel didn’t particularly enjoy the amount of complaining that would undoubtedly ensue if he did that, but it would at least but Lucifer out of his hair for a while.

Besides, last time Amenadiel had had the misfortune of seeing, Lucifer enjoyed being tied up. Obviously that same enjoyment would not extend to being trapped in hell, but it wasn’t like it would hurt him. After a few decades, Lucifer would probably make a joke of it. It felt on the wrong side of cruel, though, which gave Amenadiel enough pause not to do it the last time Lucifer had snuck out - which had apparently resulted in Woodstock… well, existing.

This time, Amenadiel had no such patience.

When Lucifer was brought back to hell, he was going to chain him to that godforsaken throne and leave him to his job.

Amenadiel was tired of trying to force Lucifer to stay and follow orders. Why Lucifer thought he had free will was beyond Amenadiel’s comprehension. But if he couldn’t force Lucifer to ‘choose’ to stay in hell, he’d just have to force Lucifer to stay in hell whether he liked it or not.

Malcolm’s suggestion had, actually, made sense, the longer Amenadiel thought about it. The problem wasn’t Lucifer leaving his position to go to earth - it was that he thought he had a choice about it. Still, Amenadiel was loathe to admit that the slimy little human had a point, and Amenadiel also knew that the sooner Malcolm stopped procrastinating, the sooner he could go home.

He had orders to follow, too.

Amenadiel needed to pray.

Clear his thoughts, think things through for a bit. Consider how best to force Malcolm to kill Lucifer. Where to get some of those unbreakable chains, since the storage room for them was still up in the Silver City - their Father had had them made in case their Mother ever came back, and needed to be thrown into a pit.

Seemed a bit extreme to Amenadiel, honestly.

Wait.

He had been spending far too long on earth around the humans if he was beginning to question his Father, his orders.

Amenadiel seriously, seriously needed to pray.

On the roof of the precinct, Malcolm screamed in rage, hitting his hand against a wall, before schooling his face and opening the door to go back downstairs. He was going to take the rest of the day off, he felt. Now that his plan - make Amenadiel let him have Lucifer - had gone down, he needed another solution. He wasn't going to let Lucifer get away. He wasn't. He _couldn't_. Lucifer was _his._ He belonged to him. And if Lucifer was going to get taken away from him, he had to make sure to get as much out of their deals as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm: what if i raped ur brother. haha just kidding... unless?
> 
> comments!!!! I love them pls do consider. last chapter was long, this one is short. consistency? who is she.
> 
> next chapter gonna be a full angst sesh my dudes


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heed the tags y'all + a trigger warning for choking/difficulty breathing

“You’re like a drug. Once I got a hit, stopping is just too much. And I don’t want to stop.” Malcolm muttered into Lucifer’s ear, as he fucked him bent over the coffee table in the penthouse.

Really, it was Lucifer’s own fault for sending Maze out to chase after assuring her that he was fine, that she could go chase after that brunette she’d been eyeing. She had been reluctant to leave, but eager just the same. Either way, it had left him, technically, available. And Malcolm had been able to slide right in through the unmonitored doors. And Lucifer hadn’t been able to turn him away.

Lucifer also knew that Maze would feel guilty - well, as guilty as a demon could feel, really - if she had known that Malcolm was coming, he knew she would have refused to leave. He also knew that, if Maze had stayed, Malcolm wouldn’t have come, either.

Not that she would know he was still fulfilling a deal, anyway. Why Lucifer hadn’t told them, why he hadn’t told _her_ , he didn’t know. Maybe it was shame. If he had believed himself capable of that, anyway.

Malcolm had used his belt to wrap around Lucifer’s neck, and he hoped to - well, not his Dad - that it wouldn’t bruise a ring around his neck.

His body still ached from before, and Lucifer knew that the slick, squelching sound was his own blood more than any lube that Malcolm had elected not to bring.

Actually, that wasn’t entirely accurate. It didn’t ache. It _hurt_. Hurt in the way that Lucifer knew meant there was something _wrong_ , something damaged. That was not good. That was very, very not good.

Lucifer tried to speak, but coughed on the tightness of the belt around his neck. Malcolm loosened it with a wrist, motions not stopping for even a moment. “What’re you thinking about? ‘Sides me, of course.”

“Stop.” Lucifer rasped out, one hand coming up to wrap around the edge of the belt, keeping it from constricting further, the other trying to prop himself up on the table.

“We made a deal, Luci. Don’t go breaking that on me. Not over this.” Malcolm’s voice sounded edged, harder than usual. Almost panicked.

That was concerning. A panicked Malcolm was a much, much more dangerous one.

“There’s something wrong.” Lucifer tried to explain, tried to justify. Malcolm wouldn’t want him seriously hurt, it would take away opportunities in the future. Unless this was part of the lesson that Amenadiel was trying to pound - if it had been any other time before this past month, Lucifer would have snickered - into him, in which case-

“Yeah, there is a problem.” Malcolm nodded, pulling out. Lucifer, twisting around slightly, could see that he was dripping red. He picked up his jacket, pulling out those fucking handcuffs. “You’re trying to get out of fulfilling the deal.”

Malcolm clicked the handcuff around Lucifer’s wrist, hand still gripping the belt, and then clicking it around the other, table leg acting as a barrier between them. Lucifer’s hand was forced from its defensive position at his neck to the edge of the table, while Malcolm picked the edge of the belt back up, allowing it to tighten once more. Lucifer felt Malcolm reposition himself, and closed his eyes, trying to remind himself that _he didn’t need to breathe, he didn’t need to breathe-_

Malcolm rammed in, hard enough that Lucifer would have screamed, except that he had no air in his lungs with which to do so.

While Malcolm picked up an even harsher, more agonizing pace, he leaned over Lucifer to speak.

“See, I was going to be nice, today. I wasn’t going to restrain you. But since you’re so bent on breaking the rules, I have no choice. Don’t you see? You’re bringing this onto yourself. You’re the one making it worse for yourself.” Malcolm stilled for a moment.

“Don’t. Make. Deals. You. Can’t. Fulfill.” Each word was punctuated by a thrust, and Lucifer flinched, expecting another.

Malcolm laughed. “Wow, you really aren’t figuring this out, huh? We make a deal, we follow through on the deal. There is no reason to be so worked up all of the time. Just take it easy.” Malcolm reached out, and Lucifer felt fingers card through his matted hair. He was momentarily thankful for the belt, as it stopped him from gagging. The fingers were rough, yanking on the knots Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to fix.

Malcolm tssked. “Well, this is a mess. We really do need to get that fixed up, huh? Can’t have you looking unpresentable. I want your hair to be nice. Just for me. Who knows when I’ll see it again?” He paused. “Well, once I’m done with this, anyway.”

By the time Malcolm had finished, Lucifer could feel what seemed like rivers of blood coursing down his legs. Thankfully, the floor was tile, so it wouldn’t stain. Malcolm uncuffed his arms, holding the cuffs in one hand, but kept the belt around his neck.

“I like it when you’re quiet, I think. Not in the mood for your commentary, this time.” Malcolm shrugged, tugging on it experimentally, and grinning when Lucifer’s head jerked in the opposite direction, an instinctive response against it.

Lucifer was under no illusions. It was a collar. Malcolm was treating him like a fucking pet. That suspicion was proved correct when Malcolm pulled on it to lead Lucifer after him, towards the bed.

“Where’s your shower, Luci?”

Lucifer started to walk towards it, but Malcolm pulled on the leather, stopping him short. “Tell me. Don’t show me.”

Lucifer tried to speak, and brought up one hand to pull a bit of a gap enough to say, “The door on the left of the hall.”

“Thank you. Was that so hard?” Malcolm asked, as Lucifer choked for breath, winded from the exertion of speaking.

Malcolm pulled Lucifer into the bathroom, then into the shower. He dropped the belt long enough to fiddle with the controls, turning the shower on. It was pleasantly warm, Lucifer supposed, except his entire body just felt cold, and when the belt came off his neck, he gasped for - the rapidly humidifying - air. Malcolm tossed the belt to the side, onto the floor away from the spray. “Don’t want it getting wrecked by the water.” He explained, before picking up a bottle of shampoo.

Lucifer took a step back, eyes wide, heart hammering through his chest.

“It’s okay. I don’t need-”

“You’ll do what I tell you to, Luci.”

“This- this isn’t part of the deal. This is outside of that, there’s no reason-” Lucifer backed up another step, back hitting the shower’s wall.

“But I want it.” Malcolm stepped forward as well, pressing his body against Lucifer’s. The shampoo bottle came between them, and was then pressed into Lucifer’s hand.

Lucifer stared down at it like it was going to bite him.

“Go on. Do it.” Malcolm dipped his head towards the bottle. “Unless you want me to screw you with it.”

His tone was light, but Lucifer knew he wasn’t joking.

With trembling hands, Lucifer uncapped the shampoo lid. Malcolm watched with hungry eyes as Lucifer dolloped some onto his shaking hands, and brought them to his matted hair.

Lucifer had barely touched his hair when he dropped his hands with a choked sound, flinching away from himself, back slamming painfully against the wall, cracking it from the force.

Malcolm stepped forwards, sighing. “Fine. I should’ve known. If you want anything done -” He picked up the handcuffs, “You have to do it yourself.”

He re-cuffed Lucifer’s wrists to the grab bar, forcing Lucifer to an awkward position on his knees. Then, he picked up the shampoo, and Lucifer’s heart dropped.

“Don’t. Don’t - you don’t, don’t have to- please don’t-” Lucifer tried to push himself as far away as possible from Malcolm, whose hands were now lathered with shampoo, but there was nowhere to go and then-

Malcolm’s hands were combing through his hair, touching and caressing and just the wrong side of pressure to not be a caress, but to hurt, and the contact was-

Lucifer was twitching, trying not to scream because it didn’t hurt but it felt so, so _wrong_ , and he just kept shaking and shaking, breath gasping and trying desperately not to throw up. His eyes were squeezed closed, trying desperately to distance himself from what was happening to him. This wasn’t part of the deal, he would be able to stop it, but he couldn’t make himself act because all he felt was absolutely sick and he couldn’t - he couldn’t do anything. It was like he was frozen in this moment, as powerless as any mortal, if not even more so.

Malcolm grabbed Lucifer by the hair, and shoved his head under the spray of the shower, rinsing off the suds. Lucifer hated that touch. He didn’t seem to have any power to pull away from it, however.

“See? Was that so hard?” Malcolm pulled Lucifer’s head back, hand still gripping his hair, hard enough that it hurt.

“This is what happens when you tell me to stop. I have to punish you. You know that, now, yeah?” Malcolm asked, voice going from vindictively satisfied to patronizing in a heartbeat. Which said a lot, since Lucifer’s was currently pounding out of his chest.

Malcolm uncuffed Lucifer again - he was beginning to really, really hate those, almost as much as the feeling of Malcolm’s hands. Not really, but still - and gathered up his clothes, pulling them on. “I really should be heading out. Got things to do, places to be.” Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “Hey, you’re looking better already. Next time, if you ask me to stop, I’ll brush it too.” Malcolm’s grin faded for a moment, before he forced it back up. “I will be seeing you again, of course. No matter what the boss says.”

That statement seemed vaguely important, but Lucifer wasn’t sure he was processing the words coming from Malcolm’s mouth, entire world fading in and out of sound.

Malcolm grinned sharkily, and headed for the elevator. Lucifer stared after him, hair dripping wet into his eyes, legs shaking. The minute Malcolm was out of sight his legs buckled, and Lucifer hit the floor.

He had to clean up the blood. He had to - Maze could smell blood, she always could. He’d have to hide it, he’d have to clean it up.

He would get up and do that in a minute, though. He just needed a minute to rest. Then he would get up. Then he would clean up the mess before Maze got back. He just needed a minute to rest.

Lucifer’s eyelids felt like weights, and they slipped closed.

\-----

It hadn’t taken Maze long to track down Amenadiel.

She had been trying to figure out a way to make her exit without upsetting Lucifer. But then, he had been practically shoving her out the door, telling her to “Have fun!”

Beating the holiness out of an angel sounded exceptionally fun to her, in this particular moment.

It helped that the smell of angels - like heat, but not in the warm, comforting way of Hell, but rather in a bright, almost clinical way was so distinctive. That, coupled with the fact that Amenadiel smelled like fucking pears - she had used to like pears - made a trail pretty easy to follow, leading her directly to the beach.

Amenadiel was sitting on a bench, watching the waves crash rhythmically against the shore.

His spine was straight, as always, hands clasped in his lap.

Huh.

He was praying.

Fuck that.

Maze didn’t particularly care for God, much - he’d fucked Lucifer over pretty thoroughly. While she was glad that had happened, since it meant she knew Lucifer in the first place, it didn’t escape her notice that it left him pretty fucked up.

And now, now that the supposed ‘good guys’ sided with rapists?

At least Lucifer and her siblings never pretended to be the good guys. She knew what her role was. She did not hide from it. She embraced it.

And part of her role - in service to her King - was to kill an absolute piece of filth. But before that, Amenadiel needed to be dealt with.

Maze walked towards him purposefully, blades flicking out into her hands - she’d used a little bit of her own demon skills to fix her hand. She didn’t want to be impaired, and human skin took to long to fix.

“Mazikeen.” Amenadiel turned his head, as if to greet her, “I am currently occup-”

She grabbed the bench with one hand, ripping it up and throwing it across the beach into the sand. Amenadiel slid off of it, immediately getting into a defensive position across from her.

“Mazikeen, what is the meaning of this?” He sounded legitimately confused.

As if he was surprised she had found out.

“You.” Maze snarled, voice taking on its more demonic qualities as her rage built. “You sent that human.”

Amenadiel tensed, looking guilty. “I could not convince Lucifer to return to Hell by himself, I needed something - someone - to send him down for me.”

“What? Couldn’t do it yourself? Didn’t have the guts for it?” Maze snarled, human face beginning to melt away, eyes glowing with hellfire.

“If I had killed him, I would have been committing a sin.” Amenadiel lifted his hands placatingly.

“So, what? It’s wrong if you kill him, but it’s fine if you send some human to fuck him up?”

“I- _what?_ ” Amenadiel’s hands dropped slightly, confusion fluttering across his face. “What do you mean?”

Maze pointed her knife at him, smiling coldly. “Oh, no, you don’t get to play that game. Don’t act like he wasn’t on your orders.”

“He was, but-” Amenadiel was cut off as Maze lunged at him, knife slicing towards him. He managed to mostly block it, knife skidding down his right forearm instead of into his chest.

“But _nothing_!” Maze spat, “You dare, you _dare_ demand he be hurt. For what? Trying to fucking live?” Maze struck out again, Amenadiel dodging. “It’s not enough you send him back to Hell, no. You need to try and fucking destroy _everything_ for him? Just, just fucking kill him yourself and be done with it. Or, better yet,” Maze snarled, slashing again. Amenadiel moved out of the way, but he wasn’t fighting back. At all. “Better yet, why not rape him yourself? Since you seem so eager to fucking destroy him.”

Amenadiel froze.

Maze’s knife buried into his shoulder.

Amenadiel didn’t even seem to notice.

“Lucifer was _what?_ ” He asked, voice odd.

“You sent Malcolm. To fucking. Rape. Him. So, I’m here to kill you. Want me to draw you a fucking diagram?”

“I did not order that.” Amenadiel’s eyebrows furrowed. “I only told the human to kill Lucifer, not to-” His eyes narrowed. “He had suggested it. I told him specifically not to.”

“Well, you didn’t specify enough then, did you?” Maze took half a step back, seeming to notice the rage beginning to bubble under the surface of Amenadiel’s still-calm face. It seemed legitimate - Amenadiel was a terrible actor.

“He disobeyed my orders.” Amenadiel said the words gravely, like it was the most meaningful statement he could possibly make.

“ _That’s_ your concern here? Your brother gets fucking raped-”

“Stop saying that!”

“Why?” Maze snarled, getting into Amenadiel’s face. “Does it bother you? That it’s the truth? That Lucifer got hurt? Or, that your little scheme didn’t go as planned?”

“I brought him back. I gave him orders!”

“That’s not the point!” Maze shoved Amenadiel in the chest, sending him staggering back a few dozen feet. “You arrogant, absolute-” Amenadiel was gone. “Fuck!”

“Give me back my fucking knife!” Maze screamed into the sky, “So I can slit your fucking throat with it!”

No reply came, and Maze cursed, shoving her other knife back into her sleeve.

“He’d better not kill Malcolm before I do.” Maze muttered, pulling out her phone to text the others in their little impromptu-kill-Malcolm chat. She stared at the names for a moment, then snapped her phone shut.

Her priority was killing Malcolm - and re-finding Amenadiel, before he made himself any more of an interference in the problem he had created.

The humans would get in the way, with their pesky morals and whatnot.

Maze should probably tell Lucifer that Amenadiel wasn’t - or at least claimed not be - responsible for Malcolm’s actions. But then, it was not that she entirely believed it - resurrect someone, and not pay attention to what they do? Bullshit.

Maze would take care of the problems now, and explain everything later. Right now, she had a clear mission. She shouldn’t have let Amenadiel get away - that was sloppy of her. Even if he truly hadn’t known what Malcolm was doing, she was not letting him off the hook for this.

Amenadiel had allowed Malcolm to hurt her King, and his brother, for the sake of some arbitrary mission from God. And now, he had the gall to be upset at the lack of obedience, rather than the act itself? Her skin was itching to go and rip off Amenadiel’s wings, and offer them to Lucifer as a gift. She doubted it would be enough to equal the damage that Amenadiel had caused him, however.

Lucifer wouldn’t want to see her now, anyway. He had been encouraging her to leave, she knew, for a simple reason.

Whenever there was a situation, rare as they were, where Lucifer needed her to ground him, he was always a little bit reclusive afterwards. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was - a chance to recollect himself, to put his dignity back together, slip his mask back on, she didn’t know.

It didn’t matter the reason, however.

All that mattered was that Lucifer was safe for now.  
\--------

Lucifer needed to clean up the blood, still.

He’d forgotten why there was blood there. But he knew he had to clean it up - Maze wouldn’t want to see it.

He couldn’t remember why that was, either.

Maybe she’d be mad about the floor getting stained? He remembered something about that was important.

It didn't matter. He’d fix it later.

He was just so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amenadiel has his priorities lol
> 
> comments are fun! pls do a consider :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: victim blaming

Rage.

Amenadiel had felt the emotion before - when Lucifer had led the humans to sin - but he wasn’t supposed to. It was a human concept, a human emotion - and Amenadiel took great pains to not feel rage towards the humans. It was important to treat them like sacred pets.

Still, Amenadiel knew the emotion bubbling and frothing inside his chest, knew the way his vision seemed to shift and his mind began to race, and knew that it was rage.

Their Father had not built him to experience such an emotion.

But Lucifer… Lucifer somehow managed to bring it out in him every single time.

Amenadiel landed on the balcony of Lucifer’s penthouse. Everything about Lucifer, even the windowpane doors, seemed to just make Amenadiel more angry.

Lucifer could get as close to the sky as he wanted - he’d _never_ get back into Heaven.

Amenadiel pushed open the door, striding into the penthouse’s main room.

The coppery smell of blood hits him first, and his steps falter for a moment, before resuming. The second thing he sees is a drying pool of blood. The third thing he sees is a curled up body on the floor. It took Amenadiel a moment to even realize that it was Lucifer, but the scars where he cut off his wings made it clear.

“What? Come to drag me back to hell, now? I know your plan. It worked. Feel free to gloat.”

Lucifer turned to face Amenadiel, and he took a step back, shocked by the sheer defeat in Lucifer’s cloudy, barely-focused eyes. A bruised ring around his neck was rapidly purpling, and his sopping hair stuck to his forehead. Lucifer looked so very young, like a child, but at the same time eons old, as if standing at his own deathbed.

“Just do it. It doesn’t matter.” His voice was low, scratchy, so quiet as to barely be heard. He didn’t even seem fully aware of Amenadiel’s presence, given by the slightly vacant expression on his face.

Amenadiel feels some of his anger ebb, as concern began to swell within his heart. Lucifer did not seem in his right, adequately irritating, state. Somehow, his passiveness was all the more infuriating, and any concern was swept away by the rising tide of anger that seemed to just keep growing within Amenadiel.

Amenadiel had so many things he wanted to say, but in the end, all that came out was, “How could you have let this happen?”

Lucifer’s face twisted, as if his words had been a blade. “What?” He asked, voice crackling from the attempt to raise its volume. He still looked confused, but it seemed to be rapidly fading.

“It’s bad enough you go and cut off your wings, but now this? Allow your body - the body our Father gave you - to be desecrated with a sinner’s touch?”

Lucifer tried to sit up, but choked out a cry of pain, leaning heavily against one braced forearm.

“And who released said ‘sinner’ upon me?” Lucifer spat, “Your pet. Your orders.”

Amenadiel’s anger rose further at the mention of the human’s errors. “I didn’t order him to bed you. I ordered him to _kill_ you. Nothing else.”

Lucifer went quiet, eyes narrowing, clearly thinking. It takes several moments, longer than it would have ever before, before he finally speaks. His voice is shaking with rage, exhaustion, and something else. Something achingly painful, like the weight of everything had just crashed onto his shoulders, crushing him beneath it.

“You ordered him after me, and you didn’t watch him. You raised him, from Hell, and you… what, left him to his devices? Didn’t think what someone on a mission from Hell could possibly have against the Devil who supposedly put him there? I can’t believe you could be so incomp-” Lucifer’s voice slowly became more and more raspy, before breaking off entirely into a wheezing cough, wanting to touch his aching throat but not daring to trust his body would support itself.

“Lucifer,” Amenadiel began, taking on a paternalistic tone, but Lucifer glared at him, and he found himself falling silent. He wasn’t sure why - the rage was still beating against his chest, demanding to be let out. But Amenadiel looked at Lucifer’s eyes, and could not bring himself to say the words on his tongue. Something else was beginning to gnaw at him, some mixture of sadness and - dare he say it - _guilt_. Amenadiel shook his head, shoving that away. Just Lucifer back to his old tricks, trying to make Amenadiel falter in their Father’s plan.

“Malcolm would have followed my orders, if you hadn’t interfered. You caused the very pain you now blame me for! You are the Devil, and you were an angel, once - no mortal would have dared touch you unless you allowed them to!”

Something in Lucifer’s face cracked, the rage fading and the exhaustion seeping through. He looked so very tired.

“Get out.”

“No.”

“Get out!” Lucifer screamed, eyes wide and almost manic.

“I should have taken you back to hell when I had the chance.” Amenadiel took a step towards Lucifer, wings unfurling.

Lucifer scrambled back, leaving a trail of blood on the floor. “Get! OUT!”

No witty remarks, no barbs. Lucifer was acting like a wild animal, and Amenadiel found it… deeply disturbing.

Amenadiel stopped.

Lucifer didn’t - he kept inching back, trying to put more and more distance between them, as if he could ever hope to outpace Amenadiel.

“Lucifer.” Amenadiel rubbed at his eyes. “You’re evidently hurt. Just, let me take you back to Hell, and-” When he opened his eyes, it was like seeing Lucifer for the first time.

He was shaking, and deathly pale, except for spots where blood had stained his skin red, and in the deeply bruised area around his neck. His arms were trembling from the effort of keeping him upright, and his eyes were glowing with hellfire fury. As Amenadiel looked closer, he could see that they burned emptily, staring up at him with absolutely nothing behind them, except perhaps some other emotion. It could not have been fear behind them, because Lucifer was not fearful.

But still, those eyes that were so angry, yet so empty, followed him as he walks backwards, past the pool of blood, past the door to the penthouse balcony. Even as Amenadiel took to the sky, he still felt those eyes on him, following him.

Watching him.

Judging him.

And Amenadiel felt guilt.

And Lucifer closed his empty eyes and trembled against the tile of his floor, and prayed for death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter hella short because i did not like writing this at all. hated this chapter, hated proofing it, just ugh all around. super not fun to write my dudes.
> 
> i just cannot even.
> 
> comblents.
> 
> edit: oh also i just realized my inbox is at a total of 666 comments ever so hey!!! celebration time babey


	18. Chapter 18

Maze stalked into the penthouse, flicking her daggers inbetween her fingers as she did so. Her search for Malcolm had turned up empty, and she knew that Lucifer had, at this point, successfully shoved away all of his feelings and turned back into the devilish caricature he liked to play.

The smell of blood hit her.

Her daggers clattered to the ground, forgotten.

Her King-

Maze vaulted the bar, rummaging around underneath it, before pulling out a small container. Cursing under her breath, she popped the lid, and pulled out the contents - a single, glowing white feather.

She hadn’t really intended to have to use it - not in front of Lucifer, anyway.

Certainly not _on_ him.

But she couldn’t afford to have him die.

Or…

She hesitated. This was her chance. To go back to Hell - to go back to torturing souls and living her life the way she had always been destined to - as far as destiny exists, anyway.

But then, her hand clenched around the box so hard it cracked into splinters, she wouldn’t be able to skin Malcolm alive, rip out his entrails, and then force-feed them to him until his stomach ripped open. After all, demons are vengeful creatures - and Maze was the worst of them all.

Maze deliberated for another half-second, before standing back up, feather gripped in her hand.

She stalked over to Lucifer, stepping through blood that had long since congealed, and crouched down beside him.

His eyes were closed, body limp. He was unusually pale, even by his standards - Lucifer had always bemoaned that his angelic body meant that he could never get a tan like a real “Calehfornyan” - and Maze ground her teeth in frustration at the sight.

Blood had stopped spreading out from under him, all of it a shade of dark red, as opposed to the bright that indicated recency. Maze would take it as a good thing - the bleeding having stopped - except she had a feeling that it was more due to a _lack_ of blood than anything else.

Maze placed the feather on Lucifer’s chest, watching as golden light spread across Lucifer’s body, burrowing under his skin and arching across his ribs, then spreading outwards. It was painfully bright to see, and Maze was forced to look away or risk blinding herself. The light must have been visible from across the entire city, and Maze hoped that Malcolm would come by to investigate.

She would be waiting for him.

When the light faded away, Maze looked back down at Lucifer. He was still much too pale, and still sprawled in a pool of his own blood, but the deep bruising on his neck had faded a bit, and she could only assume that it had fixed at least most of his other physical trauma.

She knew he was going to be a fucking mess when he woke up.

Maze scooped Lucifer up into her arms like a sack of potatoes, carrying him onto his bed and depositing him into it. Without anyone around to see her, she allowed her hands to linger gently on his face, pulling up the sheets around him with an edge of softness she would never indulge, or acknowledge, in any other situation.

But here, with no witnesses to her action, she allowed herself to feel. Just a bit, just a little. In the capacity demons _could_ feel, anyway.

But then the moment ended, and Maze pulled back, walking over to the bar and dumping a bottle of vodka onto the bloodstained floor.

That would clean it up. Probably.

She scooped up her daggers, tucking them back into two of her many pockets, beginning the slow, monotonous process of cleaning up the blood that had coagulated all over the marble.

When she heard the sound of elevator doors opening, she stood and turned in less than a second, daggers flicking into her hands and throwing them towards the intruder. She adjusted her aim at the last second, blades instead embedding into the wall on either side of the doors once she recognized them.

“What the-?” Chloe’s head swerved, hand going to her gun. Linda ducked behind the edge of the doors, before emerging with a frown.

“What is going on up here? It was like a light show.” Chloe asked, hand coming off her gun at the sight of Maze.

Huh. Maze never thought she’d live to see the day where someone was put at _ease_ by her presence.

Both of them zeroed in on the red mass that was half-cleaned under Maze’s feet.

Linda put one hand over he mouth, while Chloe zeroed in on Maze, the sense of ease vanishing away in a heartbeat.

“What the fuck happened, Maze?”

“Malcolm.” Maze said curtly, turning her back on them.

“Wai- you killed him? Without me- I mean,” Chloe corrected herself, “Against the law?”

“No. I tried to, couldn’t find him.” Maze knelt back down, scrubbing away with a focused eye. “Besides, I wouldn’t have gotten blood all over the place like this. It’s careless.”

“Then what…” Chloe trailed off, eyes going wide as she stared at the pool of blood with new eyes. “Is that… Lucifer’s?”

Maze scrubbed so hard she cracked the concrete.

“Yes.” She said through gritted teeth.

“How is he not dead?” Linda asked. “Or… is he-?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not. He’s sleeping over there.” Maze gestured with her thumb.

Then she looked over Linda with a hungry eye. “I hope you’re as good at therapy as you claim he’s gonna need it.”

Linda flashed Lucifer’s prone body a worried look. “Shouldn’t he be in a hospital?”

“Nope. I took care of it. He’ll be fine.” Maze shrugged.

Chloe went for her phone anyway, and Maze snatched it out of her hand before she even opened it, then back where she had been standing.

“How did you-?”

“Demon.” Maze shrugged, tucking the phone into her back pocket.

“We should call for backup.” Chloe said angrily, then added, “And you should _stop destroying evidence_!?

Maze had ripped the entire chunk of marble out of the ground.

She cast Chloe a passive look as she walked to the trashcan, crumbling the marble under her fingers into dust. It was a lost cause - the blood had stained it too much.

“Malcolm’s not gonna live long enough for their to be a case.” Maze growled. “I thought we agreed to that.”

“Well, yes,” Chloe acquiesced, “But I thought you were going to stay with him while we looked!”

“He had everything under control.”

“Under con- _what_? Chloe sputtered, “How could he have possibly been under control?”

Maze growled. “He wanted to be alone. I’ve known him since he Fell, I know how he works. Better than you do.”

“Malcolm wouldn’t have gotten in here if you hadn’t left him alone!” Chloe shot back.

Maze stiffened. Her face flickered for the briefest moment, and Chloe could have sworn she saw something _inhuman_ coiled under her skin, straining against its boundaries, begging to strike.

Chloe took an unconscious step back.

Neither of them said anything, the danger that was Maze sizzling in the air between them, both of them knowing it could explode in an instant, in a word.

Linda was the one to break the silence. “Sometimes, in order to protect someone you can’t just obey their wishes.”

Maze flashed her a glare, opening her mouth to speak, but Linda continued without so much as a glance at Maze.

“And as for you, Detective,” - Chloe fixed Linda with a glare as well, but Linda was oblivious to the two very angry, very dangerous women she was currently standing between - “Don’t pass blame around - it all belongs solely on one person, and it’s not Maze.”

Chloe sighed, forcing herself to untense her shoulders, drop her hand that had - at some point - migrated to her gun, and instead extend it towards Maze.

“Sorry.” She said shortly.

Maze looked down at the hand, then back up at Chloe. She snarled, but the strange, almost unhinged edge in her expression had been pushed away. She didn’t take the proffered hand, instead stalking past them both to the bar.

She slung down a bottle of whiskey - she had restocked it a while ago - and a few glasses, filling them to the brim.

She downed hers, then poured another.

“Fuck this.” She said gruffly, one hand clenched around the neck of the bottle.

“Amen to that.” Chloe replied, bringing up one hand to rub at her eyes. “So, Dr. Martin and I weren’t able to track down Malcolm. It seems like he’s gone underground.”

“Obviously not.” Maze snapped back.

“Well, we weren’t able to find him. His wife said he hasn’t been home in the past couple days - and she seemed pretty happy about it, too. His usual bars haven’t seen him, either. From what we can tell, he’s completely off the grid. Except for when it came to Lucifer.” Linda explained, pushing her own drink towards Maze.

Maze drank it unflinchingly, then placed it down on the bar with more gentleness than her usual slam - in courtesy of Lucifer, undoubtedly - and spoke, “Well, then, we just need to wait until he comes after Lucifer again. Then, we kill him.”

Chloe was shaking her head before Maze even finished speaking. “We are _not_ using Lucifer as bait! That’s absolutely not going to happen. We can’t go putting him further at risk, or risk retraumatizing-”

“He’s clearly already at risk. He’s already been hurt.” Maze argued, “And even _I_ couldn’t find Malcolm today. And tracking down sinners is one of my - many - specialties.”

Chloe shook her head. “No. Think about it, how long has it been since Malcolm assaulted him? What, five weeks? The cooling off period means he wouldn’t go after Lucifer for another few weeks. The best move is to wait to see if he shows up to work - he might think nothing’s happened.”

“Or, he realized he nearly killed Lucifer, and he’s already skipped town.”

“Wait, hold on.” Linda interjected, “Just how hurt was Lucifer? Ou said he’s fine, but that doesn’t sound - and frankly, the floor didn’t look - fine.”

Maze sighed, sounding put-upon. “He is fine now. Mostly. Don’t worry about it. Just… have a drink and help me set up a plan to lure Malcolm, or get out.”

Chloe and Linda looked at each other. Chloe reached forward, and picked up her whiskey, knocking it back.

“I don’t want Malcolm to get within eyesight of Lucifer, got that?” She said firmly, “I refuse to compromise on that.”

Maze grinned sharkily, patting Chloe on the back, hard.

“Good. What about you, Doc?”

Linda hesitated. “I’m supposed to be nonviolent.”

They both stared at her.

Her face turned cold. “Oh, fine. But I don’t drink whiskey - I’m a tequila gal.”

Maze clicked her tongue, “That’s fair.” She set down the bottle, and, before she could pour a drink, Linda chugged from the bottle.

Maze’s grin spread, and she watched Linda do so with a glint in her eye that was almost predatory.

Chloe decided to ignore that, for now.

They had more pressing concerns.

Namely, how to destroy Malcolm.

She would use the plan Maze had in store - it was decidedly best to have her on her side - and then, she would… simply turn the other way when Maze killed him.

It felt wrong, Chloe knew, to let someone die. It went against her ethics - she knew damn well she was a rule-follower with the best of them - but, just this once, Chloe figured she could bend them.

Fuck. She was compromising her belief system for Lucifer fucking Morningstar.

Since when did he matter to her more than the law?

Chloe realized, with a start, that it was the moment Lucifer had asked her not to tell - the moment she had stopped herself from filing a report. She could make as many excuses as she wanted - she had forgotten, didn’t recall the conversation, whatever - but the fact was… That was the moment she had decided Lucifer was worth breaking her carefully constructed rules for.

And that scared Chloe, scared her more than she ever would want to admit.

But instead of voicing any of these concerns, or even acknowledging them, Detective Chloe Decker just poured herself another glass, sat down at one of the barstools, and began conspiring with a therapist and a self-professed demon on the best way to murder a cop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot forwarding: activate! Plenty of guilt and anger to go around this chapter - plus a nice dose of maze plotting how she's gonna kill Malcolm and bang Linda, not necessarily in that order >:D
> 
> kudos & comments are super appreciated! Friendly reminder that I _do not_ appreciate comments telling me to hurry up/update quickly. They are stressful, and make it harder for me to interact with readers. That being said, I do love validation so... thank you for all the other encouraging comments! <3


	19. Chapter 19

Dan had gone off the grid.

He and Maze had… an understanding.

While he didn’t necessarily believe in demons and all that, if there were to be one, Maze would be it. When she looked at him, he could feel his sins bubbling under the surface.

He was not a good person.

Sure, he tried to be. Followed the law, enforced the law, was a clean cop. But no amount of doing good ever stopped the whispering hatred in his head, the flickers of temptation that followed him everywhere he went.

Normally, Dan pushed against it, tried to bury it.

Today, though… Dan decided it was risk burning in hell or whatever punishment there supposedly was for causing harm, because it was time for his actions to match his intentions.

Finding Malcolm was easy. Once he admitted he wanted to find him, anyway.

After all, Malcolm had always more or less allied himself with him - blackmail or no, Dan knew that the darkness inside him attracted all kinds of bad people. Interestingly, it always seemed to work inversely, too.

Bad people were attracted to him. But he always seemed to be able to track them down, too. Dan tried desperately to make up for his horrible thoughts and wishes by using it to help the police. As if a thousand good actions could outweigh a million bad thoughts.

Fuck, he was like a walking ethical dilemma question from college.

Still, finding Malcolm was a breeze. Dan wandered aimlessly, feet knowing the way to go even if he himself didn’t, and soon enough was standing inside a greasy burger joint that reeked of pot in a random back alley.

His trusty… bad-guy-detector, or whatever it was, had never failed him yet.

And it hadn’t failed him now.

Malcolm was sitting in a booth, wrappers strewn about. Dan sauntered over, hands in his pockets and fingering the cap of the syringe concealed there.

“Danny-boy!” Malcolm said, looking up when he became aware of his presence. He seemed remarkably unperturbed, and Dan felt his hatred grow.

“Malcolm!” He said cheerily, sitting down across from him and trying not to grimace as his clothes stuck to the booth’s sticky seats.

“What brings you by?” He asked, shoving some fries into his mouth.

“I know your plan to kill Lucifer didn’t work out.” He said lowly, conspiratorially.

Malcolm looked up, eyes immediately fixing on Dan, giving him his undivided attention.

It was disturbing.

After a moment, Malcolm grinned. Too wide.

“Plans change, my friend. Plans change.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking and… why don’t you let me in on those plans? I realized… getting rid of Lucifer would be great, for me. I could help you make it happen.”

Malcolm’s face contorted. “You aren’t going to kill Lucifer. I won’t let you! He’s _mine_!”

Dan felt his fake, plastered smile twitch. The darkness inside of him roared to be let out. Kill him, here and now. No one would have to know. There were only a couple of other people in here, he could kill them too, this was gang territory and there would be no witnesses-

Dan cut off that train of thought, hard, biting down on the inside of his cheek until his thoughts redirected themselves.

“Of course. But, isn’t it pesky to be having all of these random people getting in the way? He’s yours, but he’s not _all_ yours. Not yet.”

“What do you mean?” Malcolm sat forward. His eyes were narrowed. “He’s mine. Only mine.”

“Well, sure. Except he still talks to other people, doesn’t he? Still thinks about other people. Still gets looked at by-”

“Enough!” Malcolm slammed the table, making it rock. His milkshake glass tipped over, melty ice cream spreading out across the table and dripping onto the seat cushions. “He needs to be all mine. What are you offering?”

“Look,” Dan lowered his voice, glancing around in a faux wariness, “I can help you kidnap him. That old basement? It’d hold him, same as it did me. You get him, all to yourself. Forever.”

“And what do you get?” Malcolm asked. His pupils were blown wide, eager.

“I get Lucifer out of my life. Permanently.” Dan shrugged.

“Why shouldn’t I just kill you and do it myself?” Malcolm asked idly, flicking a greasy wrapper at Dan’s face.

“Because, Chloe trusts me. She’ll let me get close to him. You wouldn’t.”

“Hm.” Malcolm shrugged. “Sounds fun. I’ll need to get some… supplies.”

Dan forced his face to stay neutral. “Course. C’mon, I want to go over the plan in more detail… in private.”

Malcolm stood up and headed for the door, Dan peeling himself off of the tacky chairs - pretty sure there might be some of its stained blue on his ass now - and followed after.

Malcolm was chatting excitedly. “-thinking a nice, thick rope. Otherwise, what’s the point in taking him-”

Dan lunged forward, syringe needle burying itself in Malcolm’s neck.

“... if it’s… not…” Malcolm half-turned, eyes going glassy, “Fun.”

Dan caught Malcolm’s body as he fell, dragging him the rest of the way into his car.

If anyone saw, they all pretended not to notice, which Dan was thankful for.

Everything he had ever thought had been twisted up in wrongness. For once, his actions matched his intentions, and it felt… well, not wonderful, actually. It felt taboo, like he was sneaking from the cookie jar. He wasn’t supposed to be doing it, and he was supposed to feel guilty about it… but goddamn if that cookie didn’t taste fantastic.

Dan closed the door to his car, turned on the ignition, and, once he was on the road, allowed himself to smile.

That was way, way too much fun.

Now, the main question… what did he do with an unconscious Malcolm?

The main temptation was to, of course, kill him. It wasn’t like anyone would begrudge him - especially since no one would know. Sure, Dan had killed before. But never so up close and personal. It could be exciting.

No.

No, he needed to make sure Lucifer got closure. That was the thing, right? This wasn’t for him, Dan reminded himself, it was for Lucifer.

In the end, Dan drove to the basement location - not many basements in LA, that was for sure - and just tying Malcolm up there, same as he had to him those few weeks ago.

Dan pulled up his phone. It felt like a leaden weight in his hands. He knew what he was supposed to do as a cop - call 911, pretend this whole thing never happened. He knew what he should do, as a person - text Maze, invite her over to take care of it for him so he could keep blood off his hands. And, he knew what he _wanted_ to do - gut Malcolm like a fish and watch the blood spread out over the ground, listen to the screams, relish in the agony-

Dan gagged.

He was disgusted with himself more and more every day.

The thoughts never stopped, of course. But Dan wasn’t going to indulge them.

He opened his phone, taking a photo of Malcolm, unconscious and restrained, and texted it to Maze with the accompanying message.

_“Gonna come over here, or do I get to do it myself?”_

His phone had barely sent the text when it began buzzing.

_Where._  
Don’t move.  
He’s mine. 

Dan texted out the address, sending it.

_I’m bringing Decker with me._

Dan felt his stomach drop.

_Are you sure that’s a good idea?_

He didn’t want Chloe to see his bloodlust. To get a glimpse at the cruelty that festered within him.

_She’s coming._

There was no room for argument, and Dan shoved his phone back into his pocket, watching Malcolm’s still figure critically.

Disgusting.

He should not be alive. He should have been dead long ago.

Dan had failed to kill him. He’d had his chance, he supposed. Now, Maze would get to eviscerate him.

Maybe she’d let him watch.

Fuck. Dan chewed at the inside of his cheek again. He needed to stop thinking like that. It wouldn’t do to allow himself to dwell on these thoughts. He had to stop indulging them. Once Malcolm was taken care of, Dan was going straight back to good actions, and only good actions.

Maybe that would redeem him for his endless transgressions.

The sound of a door opening had Dan turning, pulling his gun.

Maze stalked down the stairs, Chloe in tow.

“Linda stayed behind with Lucifer.” Chloe explained. “Malcolm just… he’d just gone to Lucifer’s penthouse.”

“Did he-?”

“Yes.” Chloe cut him off, eyes flickering away from Dan’s face to watch maze, who was circling Malcolm’s prone form slowly.

“Good work, Daniel. I’m impressed.” Maze said, turning to face him. Her smile was wide, predatorial. “You’d make an excellent demon.”

“Sure.” Dan shrugged, pretending not to understand the implication. He swore, it was like she could see inside of him, into his brain or heart or soul or whatever it was that caused him to be this way.

Maze pulled out a few knives, fingering them lovingly, eyes fixed on Malcolm’s form.

“Well, let’s get this over with.” Maze said, taking a step towards Malcolm.

“Wait!” Chloe interrupted.

Maze spun around, snarl in place.

“If you’re going to back out now, you know where the door is.”

“It’s not that. It’s… do you think we should wait? For Lucifer, I mean. What does he want?”

“He’d want Malcolm dead, believe me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Maze retorted loudly, “He’s a rapist - do you know what we do to rapists in Hell?” She turned back to Malcolm’s body, grin spreading almost painfully wide. “It makes what you had before look like nothing.”

At that precise moment, Dan felt something change. The urge to kill Malcolm that lived inside of him seemed to suddenly tap at him. Something was happening, and he wasn’t sure what. In fact, the moment was over so fast, he wasn’t even sure it had happened at all.

Except for the fact that Maze was now across the room, blood dripping down her face, there were several dark feathers on the ground, and she was screaming bloody murder.

“What just happened?” Chloe asked, blinking.

Dan picked up one of the feathers. It looked a bit like a hawk’s, but, of course, those weren’t commonly found in basements.

“Amenadiel!” Maze kicked the wall, sending splintering cracks up through the cement.

“Lucifer’s brother?” Dan asked, looking to Maze for confirmation. “Why would he-?”

“Because he’s the one who hired Malcolm, of course. Keep up.” Maze growled, shoving her blades into her pants. “I am going to find that winged bastard, and I am going to rip off each and every one of his feathers -” She stopped, chuckled darkly, “Well, the ones that are left, anyway.” She picked up one of the feathers, shredding it in her hands.

“Come on. We’re angel hunting. That bastard's too much of a coward to kill Malcolm himself, no matter what he so claims. His _'responsibility'_ my ass.”

“What?” Chloe asked, understanding maybe a third of what she was saying, “But where did Malcolm _go_?”

“Going to have to find out.” Maze grimaced. Then, she turned, giving Dan an appraising eye. “You found him quick. How?”

“I just… felt like I knew where to go.” Dan shrugged. Her eyes seemed to be burning into him more than usual.

After a moment, she nodded. Pulled out one of her blades, handing it to him.

“You’re with us.” She said, nodding. “I get the feeling you’ll be useful.”

The blade felt oddly good in Dan’s hand. Something about it seemed almost comforting, perhaps in the sharpness of its blade, in the way it could probably cut through bone without so much as a second of hesitation.

“Well, I’m going back to Lucifer. Next time you find him,” She was clearly addressing Maze, “Just kill him. Lucifer’ll deal with it, might as well do it before… whatever just happened… happens again.”

“Not going to be a problem.” Maze grinned widely. Dan handed Chloe his keys, and followed Maze to her motorcycle.

“Let’s go find a sinner, and a bloody angel.” She said, snapping on her helmet.

“Yeah.” Dan accepted the helmet she offered him, clipping it on without hesitation.

“Just… do you know why? I was able to find him, I mean. I mean, if you couldn’t… then what was I doing?”

Maze’s expression was unreadable behind the tinted black visor. Her tone was no more expressive. “I don’t know. So long as it still works, I’m not going to question it.”

She revved the engine, and Dan wrapped his arms around her stomach.

“I think I’m a bad person.” Dan admitted, “I wanted to kill Malcolm before I wanted to text you.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad person.” Maze shrugged, “That makes you a good demon.”

Before Dan could respond, she tore down the street. His arms tightened around her, and he grimaced behind his visor.

A good demon.

Huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dan's an interesting dude. Going a bit off-canon with him, think it'll be fun. referencing how he and maze get along so well in later seasons, she encourages some of his darker tendencies.
> 
> comblemtns.
> 
> didn't update for a while because I've been on a b99 binge (the new season is starting up so I've been binge-writing fics for that fandom in prep), but rest assured Malcolm's presence in the mortal plane is very quickly coming to a close.


	20. Chapter 20

It wasn’t killing him.

It was… returning him where he belonged.

Amenadiel was standing at the edge of a cliff. Malcolm was sprawled at his feet.

Feathers fluttered down around them. The wind off the coast smelled salt and seaweed. Seagulls flapped around, seeing human figures but somehow knowing that these were not ones they could pilfer from. Even they knew to avoid the winged figure on the edge. The prey lying at his feet.

Maybe… Maybe God was punishing him for bringing Malcolm back. Maybe killing him would fix it.

Or maybe it would make it worse.

Amenadiel wasn’t commiting a sin.

He was… doing penance for his mistake. That was it, yes. He had brought Malcolm back, when God must have intended him to do something else to bring Lucifer to Hell.

The best way to fix the situation may have been to simply let Maze kill Malcolm and be done with it.

But then… then he wouldn’t have fixed the problem. He wouldn’t have made up for his crime.

Amenadiel stared out over the water.

Some guidance would be helpful right now. Maybe God could give him a thumbs up or down, like those gladiators had a few years ago. Or was it centuries? Eons? Time was always confusing.

Sometimes, Amenadiel would accidentally freeze time. He didn’t mean to, but it just… happened. He’d read through half the library of Alexandria before one of his siblings tapped him on the shoulder and asked him to let the humans get back to it, if he pleased, they were getting quite bored.

Amenadiel didn’t know how old time was, but he thinks he might be older. When time has been around for a few billion years, but he can live a billion years in the space between seconds, things begin to get muddled.

He’s not even sure, right now, if time is passing or not.

Only the waves crashing is a sign to him that he has not frozen it all over again.

Amenadiel blinked, slowly.

He could spend eternity here, and still kill Malcolm before the sun set on the coastline.

If it weren’t for the waves, Amenadiel wouldn’t know if time had passed at all.

Amenadiel grimaced. It was at moments like these, when he was in reflection, that his powers disturbed him. He was a warrior, but he didn’t have to fight. He could just… stop time, slaughter the entire planet, and that would be that.

“Freezing” time was a bit of a misnomer. The world didn’t go cold, the light didn’t change or go into shades of blue. It was just absolute stillness. Absolute silence.

It was something Amenadiel experienced all the time, but the silence disturbed him. At least the waves, the seagulls, made noise.

He found it was becoming harder and harder to bear the silence.

A seagull swooped by, and snapped Amenadiel out of his reverie.

He had a job to do. Kill Malcolm, set himself back in God’s graces. Hopefully it would work.

It was a sin for humans to commit murder.

But, Amenadiel wasn’t human.

He was just… fixing a problem. That he may or may not have created. Unintentionally.

Besides, Malcolm’s presence was… grating. It was forcing Amenadiel to think too much, feel guilt over things that _weren’t his fault_. How was he supposed to know what Malcolm would do? He was supposed to obey him, supposed to follow the rules.

Angels weren’t allowed to kill humans.

But… returning him to Hell wasn’t killing. After all, how many times had Amenadiel forced Lucifer back? If it was the same as killing, well, that would just create way too many problems for him. He would have fallen long before. And, God wouldn’t have given him the mission to send Lucifer back to begin with if He thought sending people back was wrong.

So _returning_ someone to Hell would be fine.

There was nothing wrong with it.

They were alone.

Maze and… that human, Daniel, were still a ways off. Amenadiel could sense them approaching. Daniel must be telling Maze where to go.

Amenadiel didn’t know how the human was able to find Malcolm. Even he hadn’t been able to.

But, once he had… Amenadiel knew. He had a set of his eyes - the ones on the separate plane, of course - watching Maze, and he tracked where they were going.

Daniel… concerned him.

It was not normal for a human to outpace a demon and an angel, both.

Another reason why Amenadiel should kill Malcolm, in fact.

Kill him before Daniel got to him.

Whoever or whatever Daniel was, or was able to do… it was best not to let him explore it too much.

Really, Amenadiel reflected, toeing Malcolm’s limp form, it was doing another good deed. Saving a human from damnation. That put one in the bank, too. Two good deeds to outweigh the one, mistaken accident that caused some misfortune.

It wasn’t his fault, wasn’t his responsibility.

But… maybe fixing it would make everything better, anyway.

Amenadiel glanced around once more, before bending down, rolling Malcolm’s body to the edge of the cliff.

It would look like a suicide.

But, after all, he was dead already. Amenadiel had just… enabled him to take a quick vacation to the surface, for a bit.

Amenadiel straightened up, surveying the ocean in front of him. A seemingly endless expanse of water stretched out before him. If he so chose, he could fly across it, dive into it, explore and see every inch of the creations that dwelled there.

Except, of course, that was not Amenadiel’s purpose.

He was not supposed to enjoy God’s creations.

He was supposed to take Lucifer back to Hell.

But that… didn’t seem like the right thing, right now. Kill- no, _return_ Malcolm now, and then deal with Lucifer later. And later could be something to worry about… well, later.

Maybe after all of this, Lucifer would be more pliable to returning, anyway.

Amenadiel felt guilty for even thinking it, and he banished the thought harshly. He had a job to do, after all. He wouldn’t feel guilt over following orders. That wasn’t what he did. That was most certainly not his job.

He could not bring himself to look into Malcolm’s face. Keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the ocean horizon, on the crashing waves that still moved, Amenadiel gave a slight with his foot.

He heard the sound of the ground shifting, of a body rolling. Heard the sound of a cracking thud, from far below. Heard the silence that followed.

The seagulls were still squawking away, the waves still crashing, but… it suddenly seemed so quiet, anyway.

It did not feel right.

He sank slowly to his knees, eyes still fixed on the horizon. He did not want to look down, and see a broken form beneath him. Did not want to see the now-vacant ground at his feet. Didn’t want to see the air that Malcolm fell through on his journey back to Hell.

Amenadiel realized he was crying.

Was this what God wanted?

As the waves shifted far below him, he found no answer.

Amenadiel did not look down.

Would not.

 _Could_ not.

He knew Malcolm was dead - he was an angel. He sensed his soul leave his body - kicking and screaming, for the record - and had not relished in it. The body sprawled on the ground was just a corpse, now.

He had done his job. He was only doing his job. Only following his mission. He had done the right thing. He had done the right thing. He had done-

Amenadiel buried his face in his hands.

He just wanted to go _home_.

Nothing was complicated there, nothing was confusing. His missions were so clearly outlined, so clearly conveyed. Here, it was all so muddled.

He had done the right thing.

Then, why was he crying?

He felt lost.

Amenadiel had put everything back onto the main path. He had brought Malcolm up, and now he’d put him back down. Everything was back to normal.

Sure, Lucifer was… Amenadiel wasn’t sure what to think, actually. He had never seen Lucifer look at him like that. So wild, so lost. Not even after he had dragged him back last time, had he been quite so… upset wasn’t the right word, but… Amenadiel didn’t know if there was a word that existed that could encapsulate the way Lucifer had stared at him. Into his soul, as if he could see something within it.

Amenadiel wasn’t sure if bringing Lucifer back was the right call, anymore. His desperation, his _hatred_ , had been so intense…

Amenadiel didn’t question that Lucifer wouldn’t be able to stop him from taking him down to Hell. It wasn’t like it was hard - Lucifer fought, but he was never a match for Amenadiel. Especially not with the weight of heaven behind him. He had always been able to force Lucifer to return.

Now that he was away form Lucifer’s irritating self, however, Amenadiel felt that seed of concern begin to grow within him once more.

Lucifer had been hurt.

Perhaps Amenadiel could fix it for him. He killed Malcolm, restored that. He could… well, not _apologize_ , since he hadn’t done anything wrong - if Lucifer hadn’t left Hell none of this would have happened - but maybe he could give Lucifer a few more months on earth. Amenadiel would even let him get a few punches in when it was time to take him back, if it would make him feel better and get over… whatever this was.

That would work, Amenadiel decided. Plus, that way, he could hold off on having to actually interact with Lucifer again, for a while. Lucifer had just seemed so _empty_ when he had seen him last… it made Amenadiel shudder to think of it.

It was such a waste of Lucifer. As a celestial spirit, of course, not as a sibling or anything like that. No, no, Amenadiel cut all ties with that. It was a shudder of disgust, not concern.

Absolutely.

Amenadiel rose to his feet, brushing off his sandy legs, with newfound purpose.

He had done the right thing. He had fixed the problem that he had - accidentally - caused with Malcolm. There was nothing more for him to do, and he was back in God’s grace.

He had to be.

Because otherwise… Amenadiel simply didn’t know what to do.

If his mission was still to put Lucifer back into Hell, right this instant…

Well, Amenadiel supposed he could hold off on completing that mission, for the moment. It wasn’t like God, or Hell, was going anywhere.

Amenadiel blinked, and realized that, at some point, he had stopped time again. A wave was frozen, about to crash against the rocks.

How long had he been in reflection? Only seconds had passed, but it very well could have been decades.

With a thought, the waves resumed, and the birds that had been silent began to make noise once more.

Amenadiel turned from the cliff, making his way slowly down the path, wings tucking away.

If there was one thing Amenadiel feared, it was isolation. When he was alone, he could never tell if he was in the real universe, or if he had slipped into the gaps between it.

As he made his way down the path, he realized that he could no longer hear the waves.

Whether that was because he had stopped time once more, or was simply too far away to hear them, he did not know.

Malcolm was dead, Lucifer was off being still alive, Chloe Decker and Linda Martin were worrying, Daniel and Maze were hunting… and time ached inside of Amenadiel’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to write Amenadiel killing Malcolm in front of Dan & Maze at the end of chapter 19, but then realized at the last minute I wanted him to be more introspective than violent. That's why the previous chapter had such an abrupt ending - I had to retcon the last bit to place Amenadiel in this position instead. I really wanted the time (heh) to really let him delve into himself, rather than just show up, murder a fool, and pop out and _then_ reflect. This version felt more accurate to his character to me.
> 
> Also, side note: I’ve always been so intrigued with Amenadiel’s powers. In the show he makes it look intentional, but I always wondered how, when he’s by himself, he can tell. He could live an entire lifetime and then snap out of it to have it be a few seconds later. He would never even know. I like the idea of him being a little bit horrified by his own power, given its monstrousness.
> 
> comentngin pls
> 
> other other note: we got 10k hits on this fic! noice :D


	21. Chapter 21

Lucifer was back in the precinct.

He was sitting on top of Decker’s desk, drinking from a cup of coffee that tasted like nothing, watching Chloe in the kitchenette.

She was pouring a cup of coffee into her mug - oddly, one of the Brittanies was there, pouring creamer into her own cup. Lucifer didn’t know she was a cop, as well.

Chloe turned around, walking back to her desk.

“So, Detective,” Lucifer asked, mouth curving into a smile, “What brings you by?”

Chloe walked straight past him, never so much as acknowledging his presence. Her fingers were tapping out a rhythm on her mug, and she seemed to be humming to herself. It was Maze’s favorite song - S&M - but it didn’t seem to strike Lucifer as to Chloe’s taste in music.

She kept walking, and Lucifer turned around, hopping off the desk to follow after her.

“Detective? Detective?” He asked. Her footsteps never faltered, and she rounded a corner to a hallway.

Lucifer sped up, turning the corner to see… an empty hallway.

Lucifer began opening the doors - he didn’t remember putting his own coffee down, but he must have. The doors were all locked, and Lucifer felt some sort of tension growing in his chest. As if something bad was about to happen.

The hallway had so very many doors.

Finally, one turned under his hand, and he opened it.

It was an interrogation room. Chloe was sitting in one of the chairs, case file open in front of her.

She didn’t look up as he entered. Lucifer walked to her, tapping her on the shoulder. She didn’t even notice the pressure, and, when he waved his hand in front of her eyes, she didn’t blink. She just kept staring, resolutely, at the folder in front of her.

Lucifer craned his neck to look down at the content of the file.

It was blank.

“Decker’s taking a break right now.” A voice came from behind him, and Lucifer felt his heart jump into his throat, swiveling around.

Malcolm was leaning against the wall where the door had been.

“What’d you do to her?” Lucifer asked, turning down to shake Chloe vigorously. She moved with his motions, but made no sign of having noticed.

“Nothing. She’s not even here.”

Lucifer blinked and Chloe was gone, as was the case file. There was no sign she had even been there.

Lucifer swiveled, eyes burning with hellfire. “What did you do? Bring her back!”

“Believe me, Luci, you don’t want her to see this.” Malcolm drawled. He was in front of Lucifer now, body pressing against his.

Lucifer felt a jolt of - was that fear? - punch through his veins, but he was frozen to the spot. His mind was racing, but his body was motionless as Malcolm slowly pressed him back.

They were on top of the interrogation table, now. Lucifer couldn’t move.

Malcolm was kissing his way down Lucifer’s chest, his lips leaving spots of burning poison in their wake. Both of their clothes had vanished, although Lucifer couldn’t remember when they had taken them off, and Malcolm was grinding down on him.

Lucifer flinched as Malcolm’s nails dug into his thighs, turning his head to avoid having to see this happen. Again.

Instead, his eyes caught his own reflection in the interrogation room window.

He looked pathetic.

No wonder he was breaking so quickly over something so insignificant.

Lucifer grimaced as he felt Malcolm shove in unceremoniously. It sent waves of pain coursing through his body, and he wanted nothing more than to move, but his entire body felt encased in amber, frozen to the spot. This _hurt_ , and Lucifer screamed.

Lucifer felt a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes shot up. Malcolm was still ramming into him, but his arm was steady on his shoulder, completely still. Malcolm’s eyes were on Lucifer’s, and he said, “Lucifer, wake up.”

Lucifer felt someone touch his face, and it wasn’t Malcolm’s hand, it was too soft, too gentle.

“Lucifer,” It sounded like Linda, but that was impossible. Linda didn’t work in the precinct. Unless, was she a cop too? Like Brittany?

“Lucifer, I’m sorry.” Her voice came, and then a shooting pain smacked across his face.

Lucifer shot up, and now he was in a soft bed, not the cold table, and his hand was wrapped tightly around a wrist.

He was panting, out of breath, as if he’d just sparred with Maze, if not even more so. Someone was staring back at him, and he blinked, brain taking a moment to process that the face of Dr. Linda Martin was staring back at him.

He quickly let go of her hand, feeling a slight pulse of guilt at the sight of the red marks he’d left on it.

“Are you okay, Lucifer?” Linda asked.

“I…” Lucifer frowned, “What are you doing here?”

“Maze called me.” Linda said softly, “Both of us.”

“Us?” Lucifer turned, and saw Chloe hovering off of Linda’s shoulder, twisting her hands, silently watching. Her face was contorted with… something. Lucifer didn’t know what it was, and focusing hurt.

Actually, no. His entire body ached. He made to sit up, and pain shot through him, and he bit back a groan.

Linda fixed him with a look that told him he hadn’t been entirely successful.

“What…” Lucifer’s throat felt raspy, as if he had actually been screaming himself hoarse. He cleared his throat. “What happened?”

“You were dreaming.” Linda said carefully, “I can call Maze, if that would help.”

Lucifer blinked. He hadn’t dreamed in a long time. His body simply… didn’t need it. Dreaming was a human activity. Perhaps this served as further proof of his exponentially growing mortality.

“That won’t be necessary.” Lucifer shook his head, “Where is Maze, anyway?”

“She’s looking for… um.” Linda glanced back at Chloe, who returned her a look.

“Oh.” Lucifer nodded slowly. Sound was rushing in his ears. Of course, Maze would go for vengeance.

Lucifer found himself not overly concerned about it. There was the rule about not punishing within confines of the deal, but then… he hadn’t sanctioned Maze, after all. Normally, he would get up and confront her, tell her to stand down, but… well, it was technically a loophole. Whatever.

Lucifer gritted his teeth, sitting up the rest of the way and trying to smile. It looked more like a grimace of pain, he knew, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

“So, two beautiful women in my penthouse? How exciting.”

Linda rolled her eyes, even as some of the tension seemed to leak out of her body at his flippancy.

Chloe didn’t seem as much put at ease.

“Linda, hey, can you… go scrounge up some tea or something?”

“Hm?” Linda looked back at Chloe, then glanced at Lucifer, then back at Chloe. “Oh, sure!” Her voice was pitched up, and she quickly backed away, making herself scarce.

Lucifer watched her leave, feeling some of his own nerves ebb away as less eyes were on him. As he had more space to breathe.

“Lucifer…” Chloe stepped forward, still giving him plenty of distance.

He was simultaneously relieved and disappointed, own fingers twitching the urge to touch her. Except, of course, she would never allow that. And he didn’t dare ask.

“Detective.”

“How are you feeling?”

Lucifer laughed. He hadn’t meant to, but it was such an innocuous question. “I’ve… been better.” He admitted readily, “Although I must ask what brings you here?”

“I was worried about you, wanted to help.” She made a face, “Plus, killing’s not really my thing. Figured I’d leave it to Maze.”

“Ah.” Lucifer wasn’t surprised. Chloe tended to be a bit of a goody-two-shoes about the law, so it made sense she wouldn’t want to participate in such an endeavor. Still, that she would allow it at all was fairly unusual.

“And Daniel?” Lucifer asked, more for something to say than genuine curiosity.

“With Maze. He somehow managed to track him down.” Chloe shrugged. Her voice sounded off, though, and Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t question her, though.

He knew Daniel was… odd. For supposedly being a human, Lucifer could sense something unsettling festering underneath. It didn’t do to think about it, since Lucifer, quite simply, didn’t care.

Maybe he should begin to, however. Especially if Maze began to take interest in him.

They lapsed into silence, Chloe twisting her hands, Lucifer sitting on the bed, waiting for her to say what was on her mind.

“You should have told us he was still… seeing you. We could have fixed this.”

“I… couldn’t.”

“Why not? Was it part of your ‘deal’?”

“Well, no-”

“Then why the hell not?” Chloe interjected, voice raising slightly. “You really can’t trust us, after all of this? Couldn’t trust _me_?”

“I… I did trust you.” Lucifer said, looking away from her. “I just… telling you hurt you, last time. I didn’t want to do that, again.”

“You’re-” Chloe cut herself off, taken aback. When she spoke again, it was softer. “Lucifer, it doesn’t matter if it hurts me a little to find out about stuff. It’s more important for you to be physically okay than for me to be upset for a little bit.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to disagree, but Chloe plowed on.

“It makes me upset to work awful cases. But… it’s important to know about what happened in the cases, so that I can fix the problem. Catch the bad guy.” Chloe tried to explain.

“There’s no problem needing to be fixed.”

“You say that, as if you didn’t bleed all over the fucking floor a few hours ago.”

Chloe sat down on the edge of the bed, making herself appear nonthreatening, and still gave him plenty of space.

Lucifer sort of wanted her to hold his hand and say everything was going to be okay.

Even if it wasn’t. It would be nice to hear the lie, just this once.

Instead, all she said was, “Regardless, he’s not going to be able to hurt you again. I have no doubt that Maze will… get rid of him.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “She can be quite assertive.”

Chloe chuckled. “Is that what you call it? She nearly gutted him on the spot, before… well, whatever happened, happened.”

“Oh? What would that be?”

“Um… I guess your brother? Maze wasn’t very clear, but Dan seemed to understand.”

Lucifer nodded, even as his mind raced towards its inevitable conclusion. His brother, still interfering. He could never just leave well enough alone, he always had to insert himself into his life, try to destroy everything.

Despite all their fighting, Lucifer had always held out a small modicum of hope that Amenadiel would grow up, would stop just blindly following orders, think for himself.

But now… Lucifer hoped that Amenadiel’s last conversation to him had come from a place of their Father’s stupid rules, as opposed to Amenadiel’s own mind. Because Lucifer already knew God was a piece of shit, but he still had believed in his brother.

But now… it just… was too much.

Amenadiel had sent Malcolm after him to kill him, then hadn’t even bothered to make sure the job was done proper. In a way, that was worse. Amenadiel had sent Malcolm after him to kill him - but he hadn’t cared enough to make sure it went well. It wasn’t that Amenadiel hated him, or was so clever as to devise a method to ruin earth for Lucifer. No, no, Amenadiel had let this all happen simply because he hadn’t been _bothered_ to just… kill Lucifer outright.

Lucifer didn’t know he was truly capable of hatred. Didn’t know if this was even what it was, now. He had always considered it a human trait, something he was above. Vengeance, sure, anger, definitely, rage, obviously. But this… no, Lucifer admitted to himself, it wasn’t hatred. Not even now.

Not even after all of this, it wasn’t hatred he felt towards Amenadiel.

It was just pain. And it hurt more than any injury Malcolm could ever inflict upon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comblents - friendly reminder I don't appreciate comments telling me to hurry up/update more chapters faster :D
> 
> this march has been really hard :( but finally had a chance to write a bit! not thrilled with this but I haven't worked on any fics for like a couple weeks, so... i'm just glad to have anything right now <3


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